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 Sep 2014 Breannah Cross
Margaret
The puzzle is never solved.
They are looked at and pointed at
by children who don't know
that we're supposed to pity them.

Oh Son, Oh Daughter
they have Autism!
Oh, I feel so bad!


The straight jackets and shocks
have turned to stares and mocks.

They didn't to choose to be born this way
a piece of a puzzle that doesn't fit.

We look at them and thank God that its
not us.
Its not me.
But the indifference doesn't work.
We thank God that its not us.

But do we ever feel any empathy?
If you could imagine having a retardation
never really fully understanding anything

A chromosomal abnormality that would
affect your whole life forever.

Having to be watched
always having someone taking care of you
you would never have any independence.

Autism seemed to be their name
"he's Autistic"
It wasn't their name.
There is much more to them.

These people used to be tortured
people thought that they had a demon inside of them
that we had to get out.

What we never realized was that
the real demon was us.
The puzzle metaphor is a symbol for the "Autism Speaks" Foundation.
If the world is a stage
Then life is but a game
Where the acting is rage
So nobody takes the blame

The audience is of war
Watching for their fate
Drifting from shore to shore
Following this theatre of hate

Nothing changes each scene
Where Death awaits us all
Everyone knows what they've seen
But no one calls for an encore

If the world is a stage
With nothing knew to find
Let them act out their rage
I'm looking for peace of mind
Copyright Chris Smith 2012
Please don't cry
You're not alone
In this world
Feeling so alone

Come with me
Outside the window
The sun shines
Flowers still grow
Sky is blue
Day is smiling
Just for you

Never give up
There is hope
We'll find it
True friends together
Take a look
And you'll see
Beauty is outside

Then look inside
Deep into yourself
The beauty there
They call life
Starts with you


Copyright Chris Smith

— The End —