
Poetry: Sometimes Words Hurt
Sometimes, words are catastrophic. This poem is a collage of the messages that autistic people receive all the time.
Sometimes, words are catastrophic. This poem is a collage of the messages that autistic people receive all the time.
I am a dark cloud looking to unburden the weight of my tears amongst the whole of society, in a desperate attempt to wash away the vices that burden the whole.
Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom? Who has all the answers, who can say what life means? Worst of all, how do you know?
I don’t know why my mind races. As I sit here, uncomfortable because my stomach is in knots, and my thoughts won’t shut down. All
Too bold and too brazen, set sunlit clouds of envious hues They form and dither without recollect of heart’s healing
There once was a stone Maker, Of eponymous resolve, Through every creative endeavor, Had a conundrum to solve.
Do you hate me because I have the unique ability to question my surroundings objectively without superstition to cloud my judgement? Do you hate me
“Take what is yours, give everything back. Become who you were always destined to be.”
Providing no-cost, ad-free, high-quality articles
by autistic writers and professionals.
We’re also working on several charitable initiatives.
Get weekly updates on all our stories