Are the Republican Politicians Going to Hurt Us, Part Two

We are the quiet ones, lost in the hush, Where the world storms past in a thunderous rush. The lights are too bright, the voices too loud— But we dream in the softness behind the cloud. We did not ask for a battle or war, A war how foolish that we can't win, Yet they fashion laws like licence plates. The kind I use to make for twenty cents an hour, Will they carve our silence, deny our seed, And plant their power like choking weeds? We are not broken, just tuned to the stars, Our hearts beat different behind your scars. But they look through us with cold disdain, As if our joy were cause for pain. Will they strip our care, our homes, our rights, And leave us on the streets through endless nights? The halls are heavy with their suits and ties, While we paint hope in our own blue skies. If cruelty wins, will kindness flee? Or will we rise in our own decree? For though the world may cast its doubt, We bloom, soft flames, that won't burn out. They may forget, but we remain— Whole in our difference, strong in our pain. And love will echo, fierce and still— Autistic, alive, and always will. Everyone in the United States will under they Will have too register, because you said, I've Done nothing wrong what do I have to fear, Who will save us all from Hitler?