The Autistic Journal
Autism is always a hard pill to swallow,
Like planting a bullet on the skull
Drifted from life's wonders
As if I've slipped away.
Stigmatized like a cockroach
And knocked back from footy.
With my body soiled and discoloured
Embarrassed and humiliated on the face.
Mama asked me about school
Hoping it was okay,
Yet its darkness doesn't fade away
Like living in the bull pit of Sam Hill.
Then I get angry and fond of the bottle
Having nothing but doubt and shame,
As if suicide is a way out of the pain
And lifting the pressure off my chest.
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