You Poor Autistic Child

You Poor Autistic child
with your hair, oh so wild.
And the curls of your mind
Making you feel so fine.

But how many days more
can you take it all day long.
The feeling of being born
every second like youre strong.

youre weak inside and you know its true,
the sky falls and you feel blue.
without you knowing the mental frame died
and you dont feel anything now except "why?"

Will anybody ever understand?
Will they come to you with smiles?
Will you ever feel alright to stand
And fine to sit down a while?

I see hope in the future
in the line of tomorrow.
There will be some lecture
To take away all sorrow.