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Lucia Urreta Feb 2021
No
No I do not want to hear you
Your words,
False promises.
Of how much you care,
How much you love us,
When we can see behind that curtain.
Mocking,
Thinking its all a game,
When what you think is just,
Some quirky film,
Can ****.
Can't you hear all the voices?
Can't you hear the last breaths,
Of those crying out for help,
Only to be killed?
Can't you see the way we've been treated,
Bullied,
Only for you to gain millions,
Being praised for what we are hated for.
No,
This is not a question of taste,
Or craftsmanship,
This is a call for our lives,
To be respected, to be treated with the dignity,
You wish for yourself.
And for those children,
That look up to you,
Love you,
Teach them acceptance,
Teach them love.
Teach them that those differences,
That word you are not able to say,
Disabilities,
Should be accepted,
Not mocked and scorned,
By the people surrounding us.
And that our pain,
Our expressions of sorrow,
Are not reasons for us to be hurt,
Or treated sub human.
If you are to win,
To recieve accolades,
Gain more fame,
Do not do it off the pain of others,
Stepping on years and years of trauma,
From those not willing to open their hearts,
To be truly human,
For our experiences are not for sale,
And our voices shall not be silenced.
In response to the movie "Music" winning 2 Golden Globes
Mimmi Jan 2021
Sometimes I wish
That I had a Sign

Like a constant notepad
For people to read

Maybe then they would try to
Listen a little closer

But I wear the silent bells now
Calling with my empty voice

The room gets bigger
But I feel suffocated

Fidgeting with no fingers
Bleeding nails of yesterday

Or mere seconds ago
I spin walk around in an oval shape with edges

Sometimes I wish for an open wound
Needing care

People bring bandage to a funeral
And flowers to a wedding

Pictures of the beautiful ******
Ignoring the anxiety cloud of a Girl

I get through the sorl of breaths and coffe
The sounds of the red light klonking loudly

Breaking through my headphones

Sometimes I really wished they could see
See my constant struggle to survive in this neurotypical World
Sometimes I get frustrated by the fact that my autism is invisible to the naked eye.
My daily and minute by minute struggle of life.
Every autistic person is different, I am still exploring all of my autistic and ADD sides and finding new versions of stimming, fidgeting and difficulties that I have unconsciously been masking.
Paul Butters Jan 2021
We all carry Guilt.
Things we did
Or should have done.
Actions taken when red mist descended,
Hot blackness deep inside,
Or when we ran scared
Like a startled rabbit.

Sometimes we were just plain mean:
Doing things
Too bad to confess.
At times we “did our job”,
Knowing full well
That it was wrong.

We hate ourselves for what we did:
Adrenaline taking over
As we exploded and lashed out.
Cruel acts and gutting dumpings:
Things best unsaid.

But no good beating ourselves up.
No point blaming ourselves
For things we did as callow youths.
We cannot always help
What we do.
To err is human,
As they say.

We all have our flaws and demons:
Personality defects and fears.
Some have  anger issues
And autistic traits.
Fear of commitment,
Emotional dimness
And many other such things.
Stuff of heartbreak
And sorrow.

I, for one, never did relationships –
Just didn’t understand
What they were about.
So I was bound to do wrong
Sometime.

All stuff for lyrics of songs:
Songs of drifting apart
And breaking up.
Material mounting into Everests
Of angst.

But worry not.
We are not alone.
For evil acts,
Trouble and strife,
Division and violent clashes:
They all seem to be the general way
In these trying
Modern times.

Plenty to work on
In our collective quest
For Peace,
Including peace of mind.

Paul Butters

© PB 17\1\2021.
Inspired by hearing so many "breakup" lyrics on "Top of the Pops New Year 2021 Special".
I want so badly to be me enough
That it doesn't matter how crazy I am.
In a world full of deadlines and assignments,
I often wonder if I am getting credit for my life.
Did I pass the exam because I didn't want to die today?
Am I succeeding for inhabiting a level state of consciousness?
Will I be penalized for the fatigue or the anxious habits,
The inevitable compulsions?
Do they see below my skin where the turmoil lays?
Are my bones enough to hold me up under the weight
Of my perfectionism and pressure for success?
Am I too slow or different in a world that demands I exist in a system?
Am I enough in the course of Planet Earth?
Is who I am what they want,
And does it matter?
Is there extra credit for taking a shower and complying with medication?
Professor, did I achieve an A?
Mimmi Jan 2021
No one saw my pain
Even when I had no idea how to smile
I was literally dying inside
And at the closest call of ending it

No one saw my pain
I was sort of always in the backround
It sounds like a clyche but it was my reality

Everybody saw a door as a door
I saw a gate with steel bars and no password to get inside
They saw new people as an opportunite
I saw them as kings and queens, as higher royalty than me
I could never reach their level of "hey be my friend"
Why were they so scary
Why was I so afraid
I have no answer
It was just constant hell and me seeking for help without asking

I am not a happy pearl
I am not a bursting sea
I don't know when to turn back and wave for help
I always felt so trapped, there was just no place for me
Of all the steps I took, there was no shoes to be filling the path I made in the snow
Not a single one followed me, for my secrets are meant to be kept?

If they had just looked a little closer, way past the camera lense
They would have seen my scar, and my bleeding hand
They were always so happy and cheerful as they could be,
As I was laying on the ground thinking about what could be

How are they so carefree, when I plan every step and move I make
To not be in the way, but also be seen
I tried so hard playing that part, but with no confidence

They were all so cheerful
I just didn't understand
How can I be in the same room
But not understanding what is there

I just kept hiding those flaws they never saw
I didn't dare to eat the dinner that we cooked
I stayed far away and went around as a busboy the whole day

I think I could have been more
Maybe just a little more off the side
Not right in the middle but like a quarter of enough

I kept it a secret as long as I could
But I had to give an answer and to the emergency we went
I was hiding
I was venting
I was in pain
I am in pain
Will I always feel this pain inside
This was years ago,  you would think memories would go
But not mine no, they stay hidden until they pop up and i'm right back there again.
This is a poem like story telling of a trip I did with my choir some years ago. My mental state was B A D but what was more frustrating was the people who was there, who were supposed to be my friends knew nothing, they saw nothing and so alone I was and felt.
Justin Lai Jan 2021
O brother, tell us where you've been!
What is the world like beyond these trenches?

Is it safe to crawl out —
we heard the wolves were just 'were-' with a sweet tooth.
Won't you help us sniff out the lotus from the roses,
their thorns so cleverly hidden…

Sisters, we're tired of hiding in the dark,
our eyelids shut by the nurse's damp cloth;

To our champions: were you blessed in your travails?
Did you find the loving,
the caring,
the fabled Happy People that
Nashville balladeers croon about?

brave children, remember to return;
we dreamed of setting foot in a place of our own, too.
does one exist in their world ||

// NOT THEIR WORLD
NOT OURS EITHER
BUT ALL OF OUR
UNIVERSE //
I was thinking about minorities and marginalised groups, that it takes individuals braving uncertainty and doubt to blaze a trail for everyone else. We stand on the shoulders of giants.

(Giha Village is an underground village from the anime Gurren Lagann. Happy People is a song written by Lori McKenna and Hailey Whitters and recorded by Little Big Town.)
Jaicob Nov 2020
"Tick, tick, tick,"
The little watch shouts.
He sits inside my pocket
And awaits me drawing him out.

Tic, tic, tic
It's time for me to rest.
Society and anxiety
Give me too much stress.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
His voice puts me to sleep.
I love his perfect rhythms-
The perfect time he keeps.

Tic, tic, tic
The second I put him away,
The vicious tics come back
I wish they wouldn't stay.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
Directly into my ear.
The only way to stay 'normal'
Is through the rhythm I hear.

Tic, tic, tic
Whenever I am stressed,
The painful tics come back
And cannot be suppressed.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
The second-hand marches on.
Enduring all his hardships,
He's rewound every dawn.

Tic, tic, tic
My fists are bruised and aching.
"What a crazy spaz"
Society's gaze is saying.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
My lovely watch proclaims.
I whisper the rhythm back;
The perfection keeps me sane.

- - -

I need my pocket watch beside me.
Though it may not seem I do.
You simply do not understand
The troubles I'm pushing through.

The terrible sounds and motions
Are so very, very draining.
The worry to always suppress,
Wears out by the day's ending.

My watch sits beside me,
Ticking as I write this
(Ticking so I don't have to),
And reading as a witness.
This poem is about how stress and anxiety often make my tics worse. I always keep a pocket watch with me, however, so I can pull it out and place it near my ear to listen to the perfect ticking noise it makes. This very unceasing rhythm is what keeps me from having a breakdown most of the time.
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