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Autism (poem)

20140328_211249AutismAuto ism’s
Auto pilot.
My way I must go.
I have to deliver in a manner I can navigate.
Lights are loud and most don’t hear them.
Music is unmarvelous ringing a meaning I can’t bare.
Wind winds through my ear.
Tic-toc the clock docks in my mind tearing it apart in uproar.
See what I go through?
Hear what I see?
See what I hear?

My nervous system hyped up like the volume of most teen radios.
Can’t seem to turn the switch off or navigate the finding of it.
Life is on Easy Steet?
I only can dream.

Folks this isn’t a diagnosed autistic.
My son is.
Many in the support group call me on the Spectrum.
ADD? Yes I have it, that often goes hand in hand with autism.

Thus, even if I have no lable.
It isn’t a fable,
That I know one on the Spectrum,
Can be more stable with this adjusted to the person.

What is the point?
That you don’t get out of joint,
When you come in contact,
With an out of sorts autistic person.

They have their days,
Like most people
Therefore respect the knowlege this poem
Has broken from your ignorace of knowledge.

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