Countercommute

You get strange glances when you go the way
That no one ever is supposed to go;
They look at you as if they want to say
That you must not know what they all do know,
And yet they can't assume you don't, and wish
They could convince themselves you were insane:
The type of glance that always seems to fish
For answers it can never hope to gain.
You must ignore them if you want to be
Yourself, and not a drone others control;
There's nothing more depressing you could see
Than someone who has jettisoned their soul.
Walk on past stares and even sidelong glances;
Life only lives in taking awkward chances.