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Jordon Rivir Aug 27
Everyone else,
Has theses “normal” kids,
They think they are special,
When mine really is,
You can’t compare or empathize,
For what I produced
From between my thighs,
Has haunted me since his diagnosis,
Believing I can help him,
But I’m foolish,
Every parent is going to need help,
I need to admit that,
I’m better than no one else.
Vellichor Aug 7
I hate myself for talking
I inevitably do
And I wonder if you’d been so mean
If you really knew

That I would cry for hours
Hate myself for days
Stare blankly into mirrors
Until my worn eyes glazed

That for years it would haunt me
I’d replay the words I said
Your disgusted look
Tattooed inside my head

That I’d lie awake at night
Clawing at my skin
Because I hated what I knew
Was lying deep within

And I wonder if you’d been so cruel
Had you truly known
What it’s like to live with autism
How it feels to sit alone
cat Feb 27
does my "less than" title
make you better
than me?
Moth Jul 2019
I'm no puzzle piece
it's not a question
or some problem

I'm a little different
but that's not wrong
I can just be myself

I'm not part of your ideal
I shake, smile, and stutter
and get nervous alone

I'm a lover of many things
just not touching you
or being put into boxes
Sorry for posting so many ASD poems I'm just really frustrated with myself and neurotypicals. I also really hate that puzzle piece symbolism, but blue is my favorite color.
Moth Jul 2019
dark room
draped in shadow

soft music
slipping in and out

gentle colors
flow into my eyes

fuzzy socks
will warm my soul

heavy blankets
help ease my pains
Today was a terrible day. I really needed to just get that out. I had a meltdown today and it ******.
Kelly O'Toole May 2019
I tiptoe across the floor,
I sway side to side.
I like to feel different textures, but some they make me cry.
I'm also a fussy eater, my beans can't touch my egg.
And god help you if you think I'm eating all that veg.
Bath time can be stressful,
I don't like water on my head.
It makes me feel weird and gives me a shear dread.
I know what's coming next,
The comb to my head.
I don't like the prickles, they feel just like the trickles.
The towel may be warm, but it irritates my skin.
The clothes are nice and bright but they just feel too tight.
My socks are never right,
My shoes rub off my skin.
The light flickers and the walls are caving in.
The music is thumping.
My head is pounding.
My mind is racing.
I feel agitated.
Panic has set in.
And my heart it is throbbing.
The humming of the oven,
The wish wash of the machine.
The dripping of the tap,
The whistle of the birds.
The bark of the dogs,
The cries of the baby.
The whispering of the walls.
I need my safe space.
I need to calm down.
I may self soothe as your touch could feel crude.
My emotions are overwhelming.
I can feel all the tears, it's like I'm drowning, so please stay near.
I try to do good, but I get frustrated.
No one sees my struggle, because I don't know how to say it.
I'm like a ticking bomb, ready to unleash thunder.
I scream, I roar, I hit, I kick.
I bite with all my might.
But I am in fright.
It's from the fight or flight.
But I am a gentle being,
Misunderstood it seems.
I might not like my toys,
But you bring me so much joy.
My eyes appear glazed and I may seem like I'm in a daze.
And though I might not say it, I love you in many ways.
Leah Apr 2018
My brain is not a puzzle piece
Its tangled strings of thought
You are not here to put me back together
I am here to simply untangle myself
Each tangled string is complete and strong
They shine with bright colors of the rainbow
It's truly beautiful

My brain is not that of the ones around me
It is my abstract painting
Placed in a museum with a crowd of young and old
Some say it's not art
And grunt as they walk by
While others jot down ideas
On how to perfect their own piece

My brain is truly and thoroughly my own
My own to shape
And my own to love
Thoughts on my struggle with Aspergers and bipolar disorder
Maggie evans Aug 2017
stigma a small six letter word,
but blocks the way;
to unconfident to be heard.
you beastly biased blighted word,
you block the light your so obsurd.

stigma stands blocking our path,
scared alone or scared they'll laugh.
you discust me with your devilish way,
blinding us all through night and day.

stigma move over;
let me soar or fly.
keeping tears blocked to afraid to cry,

stigma should be shunted,
let's educate the world.
seeking help not stunted,
speak up with spoken word.

stigma you shrink and weaken,
as my pain with few I share.
confidence growing faster,
now eased enough not to care.

stigma I'd like to see you crumble,
like an old still dry stone wall.
you will never see me stumble,
a voice to listen to all.

stigma you no longer have the power,
to quieten us from the 'norm'.
it be boring if all the same,
unique from day us all born.

stigma now disheveled,
in future hope your gone.
knowledge giving power,
to show us all your wrong .
weather it be bullying or someone stuck in memtal health or a parent of a disabled child.better education of said situations rather than ignorance is the key.
Secret-Author Jan 2017
I will walk with you, to the end of this earth that does not welcome you.
I will shine a light in every dark corner where you see hurt and pain.
I am yours to sit with for as long as you have to.
Until you can feel whole again.
Secret-Author Sep 2016
You see this world.
This I know to be true.
But you see refractions
And shadows of other yous.
Your cries are misrepresented
Seen as horror in the night
But I know that it's just Peter Pan
Making faces in the light.

You are different.
I'll give you that.
But differences are just
Glitter in the cracks.
Some may say that
You are wrong,
But you're not, their
Imagination is just gone.

You are beautiful.
Scars and all.
Scars especially; it's
Strength, not a downfall.
Hold on to the colours
Dancing in your head,
Because without them, girl
It will all be grey instead.

— The End —