Autistic Trips Vol.11-Whiskey Colored Prism

Whiskey colored prism

Through which I admire my past

Can I say I’ve fallen? Can I say I’ve risen?

Pillars are weak, the facade’s crumbling fast

I remember shattered glass, the floor

Had fallen in, I know I have PTSD

Possibly one personality, probably more

All these dissociative patterns inside of me

One for each time I was told I was gay

Just because I liked taking care of my skin

Adulthood been tore down my door, but same

Misconceptions haunt me, travel up my shin

Through my knees, arms, and neck

Two, for each and every trek into his abode

Hoarded failures were a filthy wreck

Empty wine bottles, free to rattle and roam

Three, for every time I got hit

Cussed out on busy city streets for being me

I hated myself, my mind started to trip

Now I struggle to see the inner beauty

I'm interested in hearing what you have to say

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s