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Chris Calkins Jan 2018
once upon a time
i thought that if i scratched away at my skin hard enough
i could peel the layers far enough back
to reveal someone else inside
someone who wouldn't be judged
someone who was some semblance
of normal
it didn't work
because there is no normal in me
there is only pain and confusion and fear
now all that's left of those
happier times
are the scars that litter my body
like a trashcan
tipped in the wind
Ashwin Kumar Apr 1
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.
Kelly Sims Jun 2019
-Calm,be calm young one

I heard the strangers voice, and having no frame of  reference with which to originate myself within my surroundings, I readily took heed to these soothing words. Only to soon find my senses entirely overwhelmed as my mind and my body caught up to each other at the same moment. Feeling the most unusually bizarre sensation of having been just previously located fully within my mind. Panic set in as I found myself naked on some distant planet who's surface was composed disproportionately of foose; extremely fine grained sand. The only feature that stood out in any way was the stump of an obviously dead tree. The stranger ,who I realised was actually seated crossed legged and floating some 6 - 8 feet above the barren surface of the desolate moonscape. He continued to re-insure me of my safety and I was in no danger. I had started to hyperventilate and grew ever so close to losing my vision .When the stranger reminded me that breathing was not necessary in the journey we were  sharing and was he was going stay with me to ensure my trust guarantee, my return to my  body I had  known prior to this remarkable experience.
Dante May 2019
She was kind to me once. Just once.
And when I clung to that kindness, she went so quiet.
"I don't want that" she'd mean to say,
but only with the absence of words did she ever speak to me.
And I, ever so lost
(like Alice if Alice were to speak a different language than the flowers and rabbit)
understood that death was at the end of this.
Death was the finish line, and I was sprinting in the dark.
Where was the end? I didn't know.
I didn't know anything.

The woman in the Mexican soap opera had cancer.
"This is it" I thought. "I am close to death".
It wasn't cancer. It wasn't anything.

"How will I escape death?" I thought.

"Death." I thought.

I thought I'd have to die to avoid death.

Unspoken language means nothing to Alice, Kim.
For you are Rabbit, and your need has fallen on deaf ears, on torn open heart, on Alice, on death, on death,

on me.

Unresolved trauma from 3 years ago.
Only now am I able to talk about it.
Emerson Nosreme Oct 2018
Can you clear this up for me?
I was told autism is a 'spectrum disorder'
It is Autism Spectrum Disorder
Spectrum means a circle of unless colours in different shades
Light or dark
Hot or cold

So why is it rated by functionality?!

I am 'high functioning', I can succeed in life with no support.
If that is the truth
Why do I panic at every sound?
Why can't I process information?
Why am I not as social than I should be?

I know someone who is 'low functioning'
I am told they won't succeed at life
But they draw beautiful pictures
So does that mean they will not succeed?

So tell me
Is the spectrum a lie?
Or is the functionality a myth?
sadgirl Jun 2018
ain't no disability, i'm a superhero
- kanye west
who i am

is a complicated ****-show of

mental illnesses, diagnosed

and medicated to make me able.

according to the kids at school,

i will put you in a chokehold for flexing your double-

jointed finger.
autism is strange,

because words hurt more

than you could image.

a few words are no longer spoken

in our household.

freak is one of them.
have you ever feared someone

because of rumors?

if you have, then i announce you as an enemy,

so let's duel with choppy movements

and irrational fingers.

school is out,

and i'm thinking that

who i am

is a  delicate ****-show of

who i want to be
Is she gon' make it, TBD, huh.
Wicked Mar 2018
When things are always going wrong
you start to lose faith.
My faith in God is waning.
A God who loves his people,
wants them to live,
to be happy,
a loving God,
would let so many horrific things happen.
He let my heart be shattered.
He made me autistic.
He made me with Tourette’s.
He let my parents fall out of love.
He took my best friend.
I’ve lost faith in the god of deathless death,
pain, loss, and oppression.
Silver Dye Aug 2016
I've walked by the cafe where you sit with your autistic son every single morning for two months. Your son rocks back and forth; one hand absentmindedly tugging locks of hair while the other fidgets under the table. You sit on a red plastic chair with an ink-stained newspaper, body always angled slightly towards him.

Usually I see you reading with your wiry glasses perched on the tip of your nose. Sometimes you talk with him, and I'll listen to you mention the Spanish weather, and the daily news that you read aloud. It is nine o'clock, and I am supposed to be on my way to work. But sometimes I can't help it, so I walk a little slower, and listen a little longer.

This morning was different. Your son was shouting incoherently and crying and rocking, you couldn’t quiet him so everyone stopped and stared like he was a circus performer. You dropped your head into your calloused hands and I watched your spine cave in as if the weight of the world was crushing you. Tears welled in my eyes, and I wanted to cry at the pain I knew you felt. I almost stopped, I don't know what I would've done, or what I would've said, I don't even speak your language, but at that moment all I wanted to do was help.

I could walk a different route to work. I could walk on the other side of the street to avoid seeing something so disheartening. I could stop eavesdropping on your conversations. But every morning I choose to walk by you and your autistic son, always sitting at the same table at that same rundown cafe, because I think I would miss those rare glimpses of pride I see in your eyes when you tell a joke, and he actually smiles.
Do you know what it's like to date a boy for a month then his mom tells him to break up with you? I do
Do you know what it feels like to have your heart broken even more then you thought it would? I do
Do you know what it's like to have your ex say to you "I wanted to tell you right away but I waited to break up with you"? I do
Do you know what it feels like to have your best friend start dating your ex when you still love him? I do
Do you know what it's like to worry about going back to school and seeing them together dating and possibly kissing? I do
do you know what it feels like to have crying attacks and have your mom hug you and you can't stop crying because he hurt you so much? I do
Do you know what it's like to be scared to go back to school and be scared of seeing him? I do
Do you know what it's like to walk to your next class to find out he is in that class with you? I do
Do you know what it's like to stay in that class and pretend to be okay only to lie so you can leave because you can't be in the same room with him? I do
Do you know what it's like to run to find a teacher who knows about the problem after leaving the classroom about him being in the same class as you? I do
Do you know what it's like to breath heavy once you get out of the classroom and when you find a teacher you fumble with your words trying to explain only to burst out crying uncontrollably? I do

Do you know what it feels like to have a broken heart...... I do
UPDATE: i JUST learnt that his parents wanted him to break up with me because i'm AUTISTIC which is hypocritical because they have another son who is auticic like ***

yeah this happened and i'm one year older then him he is one grade lower then me and....... his mom is a ***** um my "friend" is like what two maybe three years older them him and his mom was like "your 15 your too young to be in a relationship" so she's NOT fine with me dating him but she;s fine with HER dating him ******* *******
cecelia Nov 2014
It's pure madness.
It is.
You think all these weird and strange and impossible thoughts, and you just want to, no, need to, tell someone every little thing you've ever thought.
But you can't.
Because you're absolutely terrified of what they'll think of you.
Because they'll judge you for being different.
For being abnormal.
They'll judge you for being you.
And then your mind starts to move at a thousand miles per hour to form logical reasons why you can't be the same as them.
Your head begins to spin because of all these thoughts colliding, and you can't stop it.
You couldn't stop it even if you tried.
Even if you wanted to.
Then, your mind, it... it just dies.
As if it were pushed to its absolute limit.
You feel horrible, and it's all because you don't know anyone could possibly comprehend you when you can't even do it yourself.
Then, to punish yourself.
To feel numb.
You cut yourself.
And you bleed.
And scar.
You hide it so that no one will ever know.
And the worst part?
It works.

— The End —