A family member keeps trying to contact me,
During a time of desperation (in November),
—I shared a link to this personal blog;
But this traumatises me, in a fresh way,
—Having spent 7 months of last year,
Wanted by police,
Whilst living in my car,
Having spent months in his house,
And my parents’ too,
To the point of almost-suicide;
It seemed to take me writing poems,
For them to think I had somehow ‘changed’,
For them to seemingly show,
Any kind of empathy;
—This has been me, all along,
For all of my entire life,
It’s not my fault they never took me seriously,
And what if I’d been no good at writing?
Would I have therefore remained unworthy?
Of course, I would,
This is by now, so obvious,
And it can only be autism,
That could explain these vast differences.
(On both sides— this is my optimistic viewpoint).