America you have to look
\nwithin your heart, and see
\nif there’s a glimmer of hope
\nsomewhere, for what you do to me
\nI’m said to be autistic
\nbut I feel, just like you
\nI have 2 eyes 2 legs
\n2 hands and my heart is good and true<\/p>\n
I really love my mother
\nfor she is good to me
\nI can’t say she understands me
\nbut then I too can’t see
\nreally how its possible to completely
\nunderstand
\nwhy I do things like I do
\nmostly its not planned<\/p>\n
it kind of happens to me
\nI move a lot its true
\nI am getting use to being
\nto freeing myself the view
\nbeyond my line of vision
\ninto the bright blue day
\nits all about the detail
\nwhich does not go away<\/p>\n
the structure of just everything
\nis so important, and
\ndepicting every wrinkle, every colour
\ngrains of sand
\nfeel gritty to my fingers
\nscratchy to my skin
\ni touch them and I feel them
\nand I begin to spin<\/p>\n
at that moment it just feels right
\nthe details of it all
\nbut nobody is listening
\nnobody at school
\nhas any time to listen
\ntheir I pads are on fire
\nthey do not really understand
\nwhy life is really dire<\/p>\n
to shock me with an electric prod
\njust imagine how that feels
\nalready I am sensitive
\nto the leaf how that appeals
\nfloating on a gentle breeze
\nthats sensitivity
\nis so profound and then I’m drowned
\nin the perpetuity<\/p>\n
of a fearful stabbing inside my soul
\na shock that drives the fear
\nthe fear of everything thats bad
\naround and its then clear
\nthe pain of it its with me
\nthen I’m made to stand outside
\nin the draughty corridor
\nyes you go and hide<\/p>\n
hide your ugly face from us
\nyour contorted limbs
\nstay out there until I tell you
\njust listen to the hymns
\nthe room the padded room
\nyou shove me in and shut the door
\nis very dark there are no windows
\nand though I do implore<\/p>\n
all of you to let me out
\nsometimes I’m there all day
\nand I’m told not to tell my mother
\nfor fear of what she’ll say
\nso I bottle it inside of me
\nI pretend, I go inside
\ninside my world in which I was hurled
\nand now I am denied<\/p>\n
even, a little compassion
\neven, a little thought
\nbeaten down
\nby a wayward clown
\na head teacher
\nwho I’d sought
\nshe was bloody useless
\nnot an ounce of care
\nnot a trace of understanding
\nand of course she wasn’t fair<\/p>\n
toxic she was toxic alright
\nher blood must have been sludge
\nher judgement she was shot away
\nshe just would never budge
\nshe stared at me, she frightened me
\nI was bullied all the time
\nby teachers and by pupils
\nto really try and climb<\/p>\n
out of the pit they had pushed me into
\nwas really hard to do
\nI could see beyond their horizon
\nI could see right through
\nhow she was reacting but ofcourse
\nI was the child
\nof course I was frustrating
\nand she got really wild<\/p>\n
the darkness it played havoc
\nwith my already failing eyes
\nthe sounds within my ear drums
\nit isn’t a surprise
\nreally
\nI am seeing through the walls
\nand into space
\nI am hearing all that crying
\nand it is such a disgrace<\/p>\n
that nobody can be gentle
\nthat nobody can care
\nthat nobody has time for me
\nthat no one is aware
\nshock treatments only make things worse
\ndark rooms bring on the fear
\nstanding in the corridor
\nof course to me its clear<\/p>\n
being smacked behind closed doors
\nand being bullied too
\nand being shouted at constantly
\nits not the thing to do
\nbut teachers do it all the time
\nwild impetuous taunts
\ntheir cackling really gets to me
\nand in my mind it haunts<\/p>\n
the darker reaches and at night
\nwhen sleep supposes to be
\nmine to find that haunting cackling voice
\ncomes back to me
\nin and out of my psyche
\nlike a torrent from on high
\nand messes with my restfulness
\nbringing tears back to my eye<\/p>\n
I have a pre instinctive mind
\na programming lets say
\ndigitally I am with it
\nI can’t describe the way
\nI seem to understand
\nthe chips and mega byte’s
\nthe programming of computers
\nits all there
\nbut ordinary objects
\nwords and some arithmatic
\nreally it gives me grief and some despair<\/p>\n
but clearly there’s a lack of understanding
\nschool should be a place where I can learn
\na calmness where creation becomes possible
\nnot a place of violent embers where I burn
\nyou profess to be profound of mind
\nand yet you clearly miss
\nthe point and instil hatred in me
\nwhen I search for bliss<\/p>\n
I move about I expectantly create worlds
\nin my soul
\neven in that shocking room
\nI fight to stay in control
\nsometimes I’m inclined to bash my head
\nhard against the wall
\nbut thats because I am crying in my heart
\nreally that’s all<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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 … Continue reading