AUTISM
Living a life of darkness, nothing really real,
Everything dimly patterned, cannot really feel
What it is like to be normal, I’m different in every way
A total mass of frustration I am every single day.

These patterns make fun or ignore me, don’t care who I am,
I’m inside me in the darkness, without an escape plan,
The me I am is dimness, colourless, different shapes
Imprinted on my seeking mind, human, not an ugly ape.

If some cure were to come to set me from autism free,
Will I know myself in the light. will I still be me?
Or is there a stranger there lurking in the darkness
Wanting freedom wanting light, I’m scared I confess.

Although I live in a different world of shapes to you unseen,
I am a living creature hidden from eyes that are not keen
To see through the outer shell to find a loving child full grown,
Maybe put away because I am unwelcome in my own home.

Do I want to know my other self, the one hidden from view?
Will I have to start learning making my shapes to something new?
Do I dislike myself so much that I want to throw this me away?
What is scary someone else will sign that paper one distant day.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson August 23, 2003