They Know

They know something that I do not.
They know how to walk the way that they do,
talk in the way they're supposed to.
They are appropriate and fair,
they are balanced and worthy,
they know the dance of laughter as it spews through the air.
They heard something I didn't,
a rule left unspoken,
a rule book unread.
They are yes when they're yes,
and no when they're no,
an impeccable unity.
They see me for a fraud,
as I smile and try,
the words that I spew are always wrong.
They know what they know,
they do what they do,
they are what they are,
and yet I am not them.
They are something I'm not.
I'm not funny or praised,
a kind of their ways.
They know it,
they do,
and they look the other way.