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Ashwin Kumar Mar 28
I am different
And have always been
Right from the age of four
Whether it be my fascination for trains
And cement mixers, for some reason
Or my peculiar fear of water
Or my obsession with the number of pages in a newspaper
And last but not the least
Playing cricket with myself

I am different
And have always been
I can't make small talk to save my life
Social cues are like Greek and Latin to me
I understand sarcasm
As much as Voldemort understands love
I keep fiddling with my things
Pens, papers, clothes, hair etc.
My room is as organised
As a typical bachelor's den is
And the list goes on and on

I am different
And have always been
Earlier, this always used to bother me
And make me feel inferior
Especially when people advised me
To improve my verbal communication skills
And body language
However, I have realised now
That they could not have been more wrong
Because I am autistic
And autism is not something that can be cured
Rather, it has to be managed
And thanks to therapy
I have been managing reasonably well
For the last five years or so
Let me repeat
I am different
And have always been
If you have a problem with that
You are welcome to leave
Poem about my being different because of my Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism. There is a Harry Potter reference.
Aye Yo
I swear..
That my mind's been spinning
Around and Around
Like my head's literally

On, the Ceiling

So you should already know..
That I'm not a big fan of
Windmills or Pinwheels

But my thoughts are mainly
Off the scene

Man.. I rather stay chill like them
Crimson Trees, so much like
the Breeze

I'm just Chill'n

But it's not a cool feeling just
standing around with both feet on
the ground, while suddenly having this..
Cruel Feeling

That Life
Is not a  CRUISE
Nope..

There's no
Smooth Sailing

But my tendencies are itching
For me to be E-
vasive

But yet trouble and I still met
NEVERTHELESS.. And I could only
guess.. it was because

We were both being
TENACIOUS!!

But in this world where we both
live, is really not that
Spacious

Which kinda feels like I'm trapped
within a Dungeon
Or maybe?
Some kind of creeped out
Basement

But now it's all Eyes on me
See.. How I got the whole
world peeping and in A-
mazement

But to them?
I'm just another
HEAD CASE
As I speak.. on what they said
LIKE
Yeah, He's apparently
Off his MEDS!!

Yep..
As I turned to
Face them

That's why I consider them each
to be my enemy now
Because I'm seeing
Three or Four
Hundred more now
And they're all

[[  " RATTLING MY CAGES!! " ]]

And it's so much so
That I just imagine them all
On stone walls..

As being  FACELESS!!

And I've been living and thinking
this way.. ever since

But the suspense is killing me more
Although? Vandal be.. my Alias
Which is a cruel art to pitch
But still..

I must  DEFACE THEM!!

So as of now..
I couldn't care less about this mess
that I've been left with
Or should I say
Cursed?

Or better yet..
For the lack of a better word
I've been hit with
the TRUTH

Which was never heard

But right now?
I am not the one to be
Messed with

For I have  PTSD
To the MAX!!
Or either Or
I have just been tagged from
here on and so on and so on
And further more..

As just another
Insane Poet ( slash ) Prophet with a
HIT LIST
I am not a Ceiling Fan ( I am not crazy )
Crimson Trees ( Fall season )
Nat Dec 2021
Stifled existence
Limpness in my veins
In all things reticence
At least I'm free of any stains

Silent build-up in my throat
Semi-solid chunks of liquid fear
Worry what sickness might denote
Perhaps it's best I disappear

Better hope ***** is symbolic
Because now I have to go
And so, of me, my stomach's *******
Is all you'll ever know
Anxiety - coming soon to a dank river valley near you!
Bowedbranches Dec 2021
The craving had been
More of a need
As of late

Energy taken
Energy generated
Or one could also say
One cultivated
One gave away
Every little thought
That you think

Isolated
from the rest of you
With steel walls
And the tallest gates
Barricade myself
In a little
Me sized
Cave

Wouldn't be surprised
If I never
            Even
                Came Out!
Dramatics
Mallory Nov 2021
Everyone else has gone home
I watch the waves and wait for the taxi cab.
Desperately clinging to my thank yous and sorrys I burrow myself in them, like a scared, lost kitten.  
Always needing.
Forced to be the Chameleon,
how could I know anything else?
God can only judge me, if he can find me.
I keep making gods out of people.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.

I hold off until I can’t.
Nail me by my feet and by my hands
something inside of me
craves to be crucified.
Guilt has been woven into my body,
by hands as old as exodus.
To the Chameleon, this is what it is to be held.
This feels like home.
This, right here, is my everlasting.
Thank you,
I’m sorry.
daphne Sep 2021
how do you do that?

walk into a crowded room
shoulders strained back
with a grin so wide
your head held high

i can't help but fiddle
finding a place to hide
frankly, i'd rather die
than ever meet their eye

how do you speak
with such determination?
are you so sure of yourself?
what if they find you unpleasant?

when they approach me
my lungs can't help but falter
my sentences come out stuttered
something wrong i'll surely utter

and when we finally leave
both you and i sit back with a sigh
yours filling you with melancholy
mine, relief, because i just survived

you must've enjoyed the party
there's a loose ***** in your mind
but now i can finally unwind
so i'll be absolutely fine
Faye Sep 2021
144
I don’t want to cut myself open on a stage,
Make my blood curdle on command.
Applaud me, will you?
This idea of sisterhood, this union
At the end of the play
One lives, one dies, and one has the glory
of letting the curtain fall down
Down on the story
Performed to move people.

I’m not a performer,
Not a thespian, actress or Janus,
I have the one face and that’s all I’ve got,
Like it or not.
My clothes are not a costume,
There’s no cue for me
That tells when to go on.
I speak now, with lines rehearsed
To keep playing the fool
The one no-one listens to.

Do you like me?
Do you like me?
Do you like me?
Please applaud.

I am not an act, waiting for an audience.
I do not respond to applause,
There’s no curtain call,
No stage light in my place
That tells me where to fall.

I can’t keep playing
Can’t keep pretending
I’m the one who decides to walk out
On all of this, now.
It’s the final call, that one last bow
And thus ends the show,
See you next week, with all your friends in tow.

A standing ovation,
A brief revelation
I don’t want this, quick,
Act like it’s all part of it,
Stumbling’s funny, err on the side of performance,
Don’t reveal the truth, don’t bleed on the stage floor,
It’s all fake. All pretend, I’m no actor,
but I perform every minute of the day.
I’m not sure my heart’s real.
PenNameBree-Z Sep 2021
You know, I never actually got away?
I left those 4 walls long ago
But the friends I made while I was alone..?
Still keep me company inside my head

They remind me every day
That Im not capable of  making good choices.
That it's safer to be alone, behind walls.
That crying is not just weak, but dangerous.

Because when people come inside,
They will hate you.
They will hurt you.
And worst of all,
They will never. Even try. To understand you.

You probably aren't worth the time.
Or even the space you inhabit.
You are possibly a vile and useless creature
Born to be wrong, and always sorry.

So don't be late
Don't defend yourself.
Don't cry - and if you do:
Don't ever let them hear you.
Don't say one ******* word,
Of one ******* thought,
Out loud. Ever.

Those are the rules.
And if you ever find yourself struggling
To follow those rules:
Stop breathing until it gets easier.

Its been years now, but...
I never actually left that room....
Those 4 walls came with me,
And I carry them inside every day.

On good days they keep me safe.
And on bad days they close in so tightly,
That it gets dark, and hard to breathe.
But on any given day?
I just feel... So **** heavy...

©pennamebreez
I wasn't allowed out of my room often as a child. Most of the time leaving my room was scary. Sometimes being in my room was scary.
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