Don’t tell me
It’s not severe
When it’s my story
To tell.

Don’t tell me
It’s not severe
When I daily live
A version of hell.

Don’t tell me
It’s not severe
When all you got
Is something to sell.

Don’t tell me
It’s not severe
When there are holes
Where he fell.

Don’t tell me
It’s not severe
When the curve dips low
On the Herrnstein bell.

Maybe the word is harsh?
Or profound or extreme?
Critical or grave?
Or perhaps just plain mean?

Do those options please you?
Allow sleep at night?
Like sweet nectar on the tongue
That burns with delight.

You can polish it up nice
Make it shine like brass
Ensure it’s real pretty
As translucent as glass.

Like the neighboring house
We all know the one
With the rocks quickly buried
Beneath the setting sun.

We each have our story
Some mild, some not
I speak for my truth
A belief that begot

A hope that spurs forth
Change and reform
Awareness and resources
For those out of the norm.

Ignorance is not bliss
Hear me loud; hear me clear
To pretend everything’s fine,
When autism CAN be severe.

#seemetoo
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