The malfunction
A miscalculation
In the machine
Of time and space
A misplaced puzzle piece
No home
No face
A waste. He says. They say
Nowhere to go
He never fits
So what does he do
He never quits
He makes his own art
His own puzzle
And fits into it
All by himself
Being you. Even with no home
You roam. And roam
Searching for a place to feel
Connected
But how can you
With a unique brain. Autistic
Differential wiring and pathing
The brain is a strange thing
What could it mean
If you dont fit. Dont quit
Make your own puzzle
And rest quietly inside it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem