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Eliza Jun 9
Seemingly so positive,
Yet so harmful.

“You’re so small!”
They say,
Like handing me a medal.

Words that will bounce around in my brain,
Words that will shape my mind forever,
Words that I will never let go of.

I have to keep this medal.
Mimmi Jan 21
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.
Delicate flower in the rain.
Don’t hang your head down
The rain is to gain
Essential for growth
and strength for your roots
As the sun will come
you’ll be flourishing too

Delicate flower in the sun
hold your head up before
light is gone.
Flourish  and bloom all day long,
showcase  your colors till sunset will dawn.

Delicate flower don’t you weep
Hang down your head
it’s time to sleep
When a new day begins
and sunrise  sets in
You’ll be blooming once more
And we’ll be happy again!

Shell ✨🐚
The beauty of flowers caresses not only the eyes but the soul too.
Humans are like flowers.
You can read it as a metaphor.
Karijinbba Sep 2020
You know you stopped me dead
while I was passing by
while you were inking gold
and glancing by;
reading poetry you like.

Oh my Lord I loved your style
and though I hadn't written
of this feelings all of my life,
I always thought in metaphorical
deep formating style.

One beastly soul
just loved my style becoming
a better patrkCham mind.
along with other Poets
thought of me
as different true and wild.

Two wolves pretended
to even like me in any form
As a rich goody two shoes
forelorned perceived was I
in my skin so wrongly viewed,

No sheep but Ram I am!
Some even called me weird
in dance and song so feared
I guess they saw
their own greedy eye revered.

So as my story in poem flowed
like a river rushing to the sea,
some poets joined my plea
to the sea I longed to join.

And as my river ran along
diverted its rushing went wrong
my river the sea never joined.

What's a river flowing!
what's a metaphor in poem!,
Copy Rights 09-2020 revised.
Some poetry makes it to it's destination
read by the intended target
this kind reaches to the sea joining in.
Sabika H May 2020
Mummified me tight in her web,
she finds it funny
that my eyes are left open.

I shake
but I cannot listen
and I cannot scream
and she stares until
my heart is broken.

she whispers and I read her lips:
"I am fate,
and you were held firm in my clutches
ever since man has fallen.

"Lay, watch, and twitch
and remember my dear,
every breath you take is testimony
that you were chosen."
It comes with big fireworks of happiness
Like an extra life that revives you at the final battle,
Like a compliment that makes believe in yourself,
Like an advent of a person with radiating hope.

Euphoria - what it's called - catches your moments,
Paints everything with eternal-like vivid hues,
Triumphs your whole past in a meaningful-like song,
Brings you a goal that has never existed.

Then, it just stops the time around you,
Lets you see the grey cloud of the present,
Hear the empty vacuum of the past,
Get dizzied by the blur of the future.

It holes your soul with the deepest pit
That eats up all the hopes remained or desired,
All the energy left leaving only fatigue,
All the senses that might make the soul living.

The Mark of Death spreads its curse all over the body,
Including the soul that just sits, lays inside,
Letting the whole world behind half-living,
Accepting death already by my side.
For the one who has no rest from tempest to tempest,
What does the word mean: summer?
What does the word mean: winter or weather?
Would he believe ever that there's a good weather?
Would he believe in warmness and sunshine or any similar form,
Or rather, would he see them as the lull before the storm?
Wouldn't he see the sun as hiding new tortures?
Wouldn't he hide under a tempest's cloak as turtles?
Saying: Oh Sweet Home, I know you and you know me,
Oh Sweet Roar, Thunder and Rain; follow me.
I remember as a village member,
I cut a memorable road in the wood...

I remember as a walking wobbler,
Some deep thrill made shrill the route,
Covered by the blackness of Blackwood.

I remember as a faint bystander,
What a dark power had that wild park,
beware-embraced, making my eyes sharp,
Taking its hideous darkness like a lark.

I remember with a tender temper,
Some river's ripping ceased my shiver,
I - a thinker, harkened the silent timber,
How the water seduced me to drink her,
Whether I will fall to flaw, following her.

I remember as a deep slumber,
I answered the call, the fanfare, I heard;
The song of the fake stream was a lake,
A lake calling me with its narcotic ache.

I remember as I remember,
As if that freak lake wanted me to keep,
As if that deep lake... made me to leap.

I remember as a member of the lake,
I cut a memorable road in the wood...
24 May 2016
Tina RSH Mar 2019
Many words I despise to praise
and smiles forcefully produced
palms on their eyes, fretting
to eye the truth that tastes so bitter
but mixed with glitter looks just like gold
to the bare eye.
I dare not say
I fret to speak
what truth lies buried in their chest
They'd run a thousand miles away
and shriek at the top of their lungs
to rip that chest apart
dispose of a piece of art
but never hear these words..
Easy to forebear lies within lies
sweet and sinister, like robbing a maiden off virginity
far better to taste, way easier to digest
than relinquish your heart to her fresh love
That is what they desire, not so deeply
And I haul myself to write for a sea of lost souls
and rivers of forgotten tears as mine
whose owners please to shroud
from what's indeed all human
to see with heart, and devour with ears.
This goes to all of us. Whether you've had an emotion or not, if you've ever felt pain and wondered how to react to it, then this poem is yours.
The Mellon Nov 2018
Mamma always told me-
I was struck motionless at the sight of her
Don't let me catch you playin' with fire.-
Her hair was ablaze
One of these days you're gonna get burned. -
Yet I am but a moth to her flame
Two poems in one, because 2 is always better than one.
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