#specialneeds
My baby girl
My baby girl,
She doesnt speak to me
But i know what she says
I know what her gibberish means
I know why her tantrums are
My baby girl
Beautiful as anything ive ever seen
Maybe more
Innocent pure unique
My baby girl is special
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
Hello, Autistic Adam here again.
When I was a student
They taught me
That Autistic kids live
In a weird world of their own:
A place of mystery
Too strange to describe:
A bubble universe
Cut off from “normal” folk.
I couldn’t picture what Autism was
Until, to my surprise
I learnt that I myself
Am Autistic.
So hard to describe,
But I can’t read those social cues
Or innuendo.
Do you really like or love me?
Or are you being polite
Even two faced?
I cannot tell.
Does a coffee mean coffee?
Tell me to jump
And I probably will.
For I take things literally.
You say, “I’m in trouble!”
And I think you really are!
Be careful what you say.
I’m so full of fear, anxiety and anger
Yet cannot tell what words of mine
Might anger you.
I cannot understand women…
But oh, that’s normal!
Haha.
But seriously,
People are baffling.
I have no girlfriend
Because I cannot tell
Between (them showing) interest and “being polite”.
The Dating Game is way beyond
My comprehension.
I’ve never asked anyone out
As I wouldn’t know where to take them
Or how to behave whilst we’re there.
Relationships are way beyond me.
What on Earth is that about?
I need a Rule Book…
If she kisses me
Should I propose?
Just don’t get it.
Better get a dog
Or cat.
I am a fictional character
As you know.
But I’m sure I’m a typical “case”.
Even my creator
Has his own Autistic traits.
There’s much of him in me.
And no I’m not referring to God here,
But who knows?
Maybe S\He is Autistic too
To some extent.
Paul Butters
© PB 18\10\2019.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
I found my light
in not doing what's expected of me,
but in doing what's best
for a 7 year old
who lost his baby sister
and his train of thought
when counting to 20
because iPads download games in seconds
but it feels like years he's watching an ad
depicting guns and blood and dying and
every time he points a finger at a friend
the law tells me
I have to call his mom
who has no response to
"I just didn't feel like doing math today,"
but musters up every ounce of energy
she doesn't have
to expel one weak statement-
"We must do what is expected of us."
They tell me that restraint
is 3 seconds or more
of student resistance
and teacher persistence
but while my hand never touches him
my words wrap around his legs
telling them to stop pacing
and they cover his mouth
telling it to stop singing
and when he cries in the hallway
at 9:52, screaming,
"I hate this school,"
I cannot explain to him
how lucky he is
to be surrounded by adults
who fake a high tolerance
for his constant fidgeting
so instead we sit in silence
until his anger runs out
and my heart rate slows
and we are ready to try again.
Later, he hugs me.
I do not pull away.
This is not restraint.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
Cold tile, legs Indian style,
Two hands holding one head
as I reflect on all the ways I
wish I could change myself.
Thick thighs that have always touched;
Stretch marks that extend longer than
my ambition;
An Italian *** that threatens to take over
my five foot of frame.
And then one night she calls me and says "Sis, I wish I could be a model like you…"
And stomach twists and falls in my gut,
as I struggle to find the words to tell her she's perfect just as she is.
Stumbling speech
matched with an unfiltered tongue.
A laugh that will break eardrums and hard hearts.
She says "Sis, maybe one day you can teach me
to read so I can go to college,"
while she tightens the Velcro that holds her
21 year old feet still,
because she never quite understood
where the bunny went.
See she’s what the doctors calls mentally ********
genetically martyred to die in a society that tells her
she's imperfect.
And now here she is,
my sister, my reflection on
cold tile with legs Indian style;
Her two hands holding one head,
Reflecting on all the ways
she wishes could change herself
to be pretty normal like me...
And I ask myself, what have I taught her?
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
My dear son
I pray you'll never know
How cruel this world can be
I pray your charm and dimpled smile
Will be your shield
I see these sweet kids just like you
On YouTube
Thinking the world is their friend
Being lured with kind words
Then beat down
Being invited to do the ice bucket challenge
Then doused with **** and ****
All they want is to belong
All they want is to be loved
To be on the inside for once
Instead of outside looking in
Sweet boy, I hope you'll never understand
What the other kids mean
When they call you ********
I hope you never cease to believe
They're laughing with you
Not at you
But more than that I pray
You'll be like the other kids someday
Able to communicate
Able to drive a car
Get a job
Go to college
Get married
But for now I'm grateful for each advance
And I pray that one day
I'll be worthy of you
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
I'll never forget you
But I'm scared that they will
Those lives that you touched
Have lives to live still
I can't really blame them
You were my precious light
But those who just knew you
Out of mind out of sight
I know that I really
Shouldn't think this but still
I see that their lives
Have to move on and will
As your mom I'm aware
That I loved you the most
But as the days and years go by
To them you're a ghost
I know that this won't be
An intentional thing
But there's thousands of new memories that the passing time brings
But you'll always be here in my heart and my mind
And your precious light
Will shine for all time.
Written with all my love for Micah Daniel, my son, my bright light, my miracle....
Sep 27, 2024
Sep 27, 2024 at 2:33 AM UTC