You see there is a great tragedy,

it is when people fail to see reality.

God, every once in a while,

takes extra time on a child.

He looks at what they will become,

smiles and say's, "It is good"

See the child some call different,

is different indeed, better even.

They aren't worse off than you or I,

They've a clearer view of how life should be.

Take a look through a fresh set of eyes.

see the beautiful perfection and the joy.

Autism removes the blinders off this world.

It is not a flaw, it is perfection at its finest.

Slowly slipping into senility,Tick

Grabbing, grasping, gasping, Tock

This disease has timed my humanity, Tick

Despite the pledging, pleading, and praying. Tock

Sometimes the snow falls

just so

that it shrouds the dying grass

in puffs of white.

When I trudge the gravesite

I try to remember how green it once was

but I can only see

its paleness.

Some insist it’s for the better

and continue to catch flakes on their tongue

as if nothing were wrong.

But they don’t know they’re catching the sky’s ashes.

They don’t know how the flakes’ coldness

entered my flesh,

and pierced my heart,

and now I struggle to remember the lively green

or believe we’ll ever leave this winter.

The first staged performance

of our Saurian comedy,

wherein the protagonists will be found

to have survived assumed tragedy,

will be followed immediately 

by meteoric extinction as digestif.

Do I want to save people's lives or do I want to salvage my family? Do I want to stitch up wounds, or am I content with allowing my pen to do it for me? Do I want my hands in a patient till 2 a.m. or do I want to tuck my kids in at 9? Career or life is the question, I live either way. For a career I live for others, and for a life I live for myself. Am I selfish or am I instinctual for wanting a life? Am I greedy or am I human for wanting a career? Which am I more greedy for? Wanting to save my own family, or making a living off saving others' families? I guess I'll let you know when I find myself on either side of the mediocre grass, because, to be honest, I don't think it's greener either way.

I keep depression hidden, out of sight

A girl must be socially acceptable

Better to look good than feel good, they say

And hey baby, I'm looking impeccable

I pass the gossips in the hall

"How are you?" As if they care

"I'm good, real good," I answer back

I walk off with a toss of my hair

My long hair is shiny, I brush it each day

No more days where I skip a shower

My clothes are clean, my teeth are brushed

I'm not shooting from the bell tower

My face is made up, I'm looking pretty

Make-up is my mask and my shield

To hide the fact that I don't give a fuck

That I am so far away from being healed

What would they say, if I answered with truth

"I'm unwell, I may have lost my mind.

I'm putting myself in dangerous spots,

I'm vulnerable, I'm lost, I'm resigned.

I'm seeking validation in the eyes of men,

I should've quit that shit when I was younger

Diet Pepsi and gummy bears keep me alive

Marlboro Lights are what feed my hunger

I don't lock my doors at all anymore

I like to wander the streets in the night

Hoping to meet my demise there in the dark

Cursing survival when I see the sunlight

I pay no bills until things get shut off

I've had no hot water for over a week

I don't even care, I guess that's the main thing

Lack of motivation, so to speak

I don't want to come to work, I hate my job

I sit at my desk without doing anything

When the day is over, I don't want to go home

Truthfully, I hate everyone and everything"

Aaahh, the look of shock would be priceless

Really, is there even a correct response?

"I'm praying for you," with a phony hug

Unable to hide their smug nonchalance

There are a few who love me, who truly care

I hate making them worried and sad

Tired of hearing them lecture and bitch

What's the point in all of us feeling bad?

So I keep it to myself, I lock down my crazy

I recite sanity like a Bible verse

Being depressed is no one's business but mine

It's my secret, my burden, my curse

she can't sleep because it hurts 

  but her daddy taught her never to cry 

    when it's gonna be a waste of tears 

  so she tries to swallow those tears 

but it doesn't work. 

he punched her

  but it was an accident

    and she believed that

  and it wasn't a big deal

just some smeared lipstick and a black eye.

she won't tell anybody

  because she's a giver of second chances

    but to others they call that afraid

  and she's not afraid

just tired and sleepy and hurting.

so she kisses him on the cheek,

  whispers sorry for all the things he's done

    and promises to get home early,

  'incase she's hurt again'

as if he wasn't the one who hurt her in the first place.