Perspective Of An Autistic Child

By Miha Alam

I sit in a corner,
cry my eyes out, red
and wonder what I did in my past life,
 that I am cursed.

Their odd behavior disgusts me,
and their sympathetic attitude puzzles me,
they can’t even interact properly,
mentally challenged, they have to be,
I don’t know what they are, not normal definitely.

There is light, that I am unable to seek,
is there a hope? That hopeless is something I always feel,
in a crowd, I am friendless.
When it is loud, I become deaf.
It’s like I am closed inside a claustrophobic shell.

They call me weird. They call me odd.
They always have tricks to make me sob,
they question my actions and they laugh behind my back.
They look at me as if I am not even worth to look at.

I have qualities that you fail to notice
My brain works faster than the ordinary,
Solving problems in a jiffy,
They say my IQ is higher than yours,
Remembering dates and predicting days
That you can’t do, what a pity?
I have magical capabilities,
when only normal is what I ever want to be.

Enough is enough;
I don’t want to feel like an alien,
I want to feel like I belong,
I don’t want to be sidelined.
Yes! I am an autistic child.
Only because I am too good for this so called “normal”category.