I am but the doll
It is the marionette operator
Who tugs the strings
Connected to my appendages
Swaying my speech and actions
My family and chums alike.
Winge and rage
At my bizarre behavior
As if I am in control
Unfortunately I am not
Nor will I ever be.
A normal living girl
For unlike Pinocchio
I have not a blue fairy
To transform me
If only my family understood.
I will forever be Autism's
Life size doll
And have no choice in the matter
For my speech and actions
Are of my marionette operator's
So I beg you to overlook
My often strange behavior.
YOU ARE READING
LOST GIRLS
PoetryThose considering themselves lost girls of society. Godesses of creation among men. Or nymphs of nature. These poems were written for you.
