When my skin crawls like there are ants tunneling just underneath the surface.
The world doesn’t understand,
When my eyes are at war with the senseless tears dying to escape.
The world doesn’t understand,
When the stimulation of normal social interaction is too much.
Like I am trapped in the middle of grand central station, naked and afraid.
The world doesn’t understand,
When I shake trying to grasp why I don’t feel the way others do...
The world doesn’t understand.
I wonder if it realizes
That neither do I
-B-
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Author:
-B- (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 28th, 2018 09:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
- Users favorite of this poem: blessednloved
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Comments1
good one.
not only do some people act like we all know what's going on with our bodies (inc brains), but some even act like we make them do weird stuff on purpose ~ guess they've either never experienced such things, or were made to feel guilty for daring to disturb other people with their own weird symptoms.
Thank you. I have found that often times a disability or difference is viewed as controllable. There is a societal stigma that the symptoms are a choice. Even more so if you are in the high functioning realm of things. If they only knew what it felt like to be me for a day. I’m glad that you enjoyed it and can relate.
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