Aspie 1
If you see me distressed
on a bench in your area,
Don't try to ask me why
I feel the way that I do;
You won, t understand how I can't cope
with so much intense stimulation,
The crowds of people are making me suffocate,
So many cars are making me feel sick.
I can't cope, take me out of here,
Out of this pollution filled place,
Into the comforting quiet countryside,
Where I feel loved and safe.
poem by Alun Jones
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.