Its doesn’t seem fair (which ever way we look at it)

America you have to look
within your heart, and see
if there’s a glimmer of hope
somewhere, for what you do to me
I’m said to be autistic
but I feel, just like you
I have 2 eyes 2 legs
2 hands and my heart is good and true

I really love my mother
for she is good to me
I can’t say she understands me
but then I too can’t see
really how its possible to completely
understand
why I do things like I do
mostly its not planned

it kind of happens to me
I move a lot its true
I am getting use to being
to freeing myself the view
beyond my line of vision
into the bright blue day
its all about the detail
which does not go away

the structure of just everything
is so important, and
depicting every wrinkle, every colour
grains of sand
feel gritty to my fingers
scratchy to my skin
i touch them and I feel them
and I begin to spin

at that moment it just feels right
the details of it all
but nobody is listening
nobody at school
has any time to listen
their I pads are on fire
they do not really understand
why life is really dire

to shock me with an electric prod
just imagine how that feels
already I am sensitive
to the leaf how that appeals
floating on a gentle breeze
thats sensitivity
is so profound and then I’m drowned
in the perpetuity

of a fearful stabbing inside my soul
a shock that drives the fear
the fear of everything thats bad
around and its then clear
the pain of it its with me
then I’m made to stand outside
in the draughty corridor
yes you go and hide

hide your ugly face from us
your contorted limbs
stay out there until I tell you
just listen to the hymns
the room the padded room
you shove me in and shut the door
is very dark there are no windows
and though I do implore

all of you to let me out
sometimes I’m there all day
and I’m told not to tell my mother
for fear of what she’ll say
so I bottle it inside of me
I pretend, I go inside
inside my world in which I was hurled
and now I am denied

even, a little compassion
even, a little thought
beaten down
by a wayward clown
a head teacher
who I’d sought
she was bloody useless
not an ounce of care
not a trace of understanding
and of course she wasn’t fair

toxic she was toxic alright
her blood must have been sludge
her judgement she was shot away
she just would never budge
she stared at me, she frightened me
I was bullied all the time
by teachers and by pupils
to really try and climb

out of the pit they had pushed me into
was really hard to do
I could see beyond their horizon
I could see right through
how she was reacting but ofcourse
I was the child
of course I was frustrating
and she got really wild

the darkness it played havoc
with my already failing eyes
the sounds within my ear drums
it isn’t a surprise
really
I am seeing through the walls
and into space
I am hearing all that crying
and it is such a disgrace

that nobody can be gentle
that nobody can care
that nobody has time for me
that no one is aware
shock treatments only make things worse
dark rooms bring on the fear
standing in the corridor
of course to me its clear

being smacked behind closed doors
and being bullied too
and being shouted at constantly
its not the thing to do
but teachers do it all the time
wild impetuous taunts
their cackling really gets to me
and in my mind it haunts

the darker reaches and at night
when sleep supposes to be
mine to find that haunting cackling voice
comes back to me
in and out of my psyche
like a torrent from on high
and messes with my restfulness
bringing tears back to my eye

I have a pre instinctive mind
a programming lets say
digitally I am with it
I can’t describe the way
I seem to understand
the chips and mega byte’s
the programming of computers
its all there
but ordinary objects
words and some arithmatic
really it gives me grief and some despair

but clearly there’s a lack of understanding
school should be a place where I can learn
a calmness where creation becomes possible
not a place of violent embers where I burn
you profess to be profound of mind
and yet you clearly miss
the point and instil hatred in me
when I search for bliss

I move about I expectantly create worlds
in my soul
even in that shocking room
I fight to stay in control
sometimes I’m inclined to bash my head
hard against the wall
but thats because I am crying in my heart
really that’s all