Thirty years and counting Every day, as life goes on A fiery battle rages In my mind, heart and soul Conflicting thoughts and emotions Wage an unholy war Armed with a billion weapons Far more destructive than nuclear bombs The resulting carnage threatens A result far worse than a Dementor's Kiss You know, I never asked for this I never asked to be born autistic Of course, it is good to be different But, does everybody appreciate this difference? In India, the society judges you Based on what you speak However, my mouth is blessed With an ability to turn Anything that it touches, into stone Resulting in decades of social anxiety If only wishes were horses I would be in Britain Where actions speak louder than words After all, not for nothing Was King George VI one of the finest rulers In spite of being born With the handicap of a speech defect?
Thirty years and counting Everybody seems to like me Everybody seems to think I'm nice Up to a point, that is The moment I dare To step out of my threshold The moment I dare To break codes of conformity The moment I dare To question any form of injustice Is the moment of truth It is the moment When everybody shows their true colours It is the moment I stop being nice Instead; I am angry, disturbed, jealous Naive, immature, unreliable Confused, weird, crazy And the list goes on and on With no end in sight
Thirty years and counting I have seen enough I have heard enough I have felt enough The time has finally come For an internal independence struggle Gone are the days When I was busy being a 'Yes Man' Now, if you have a problem with me I can only tell you this Tomorrow, you may find A pill of cyanide In your cup of coffee Or a cobra in your shoulder bag Or a bullet in your temple Or a bomb in your briefcase The choice is entirely yours, my dears
This poem has a dark ending, and a Harry Potter reference.