Replication

 I'm a replication
Of everyone I've ever met,
Pieces of myself overlapping
And melding with everyone else.
I move.
I change.
I evolve.
I can't help but feel that someday the stars will align
And someone will replace me. 

    Whenever I play freemium mobile games, I find the most satisfaction I get is trying to avoid paying for things. Which seems counterintuitive to the purposes. I may be alone in thinking this, but then I'm also alone in enjoying math games aimed at kids. As a person who gains grim satisfaction from these games, I'm also the one most strongly against their existence. Games should be fun, not a grindy chore you only enjoy when you're pretending to stick it to the man. 

An Empty House

 I try and clear out
My memories of the past,
Leaving a house empty
Of pain and sadness.
But I can't help but feel
That something is missing,
Something I used to have
When my house was a home. 

    I'm dreaming of the future. It's a dark and scary place. 

Who Stole the World From Me

 I know you.
I see you.
You're the one
Who stole the world from me.
You're the one we worship
As though you were a god.
As our lives stretch to fill our days
We praise you for nothing,
For you have done nothing worth praising.

You're the one who said we needed to be worthy,
To do more for our living than just eat and sleep.
Every day we see the bees buzzing outside
And the flies who make their way indoors.

You tell us that, because the bee makes honey,
It's worth more than the fly.
Yet if a bee makes its way into your house,
It becomes lost, disoriented, not knowing what's safe
And what's poison. 
The fly, meanwhile, knows what to do,
It never becomes lost or hungry,
For its lived by our side for years.
The fly need not work for its keep,
So it does not fear starvation.

It knows how to live without you.

Do you tell us to be bees so that we won't fly away?

I'm staring outside my window,
Wishing that I could live among flowers and trees
Instead of concrete and steel.
I'm wishing that I could be a bee,
One with a place in the hive.
But I can't.
Because I can't master the skills you feel are worthy.
I cannot produce,
I can only consume,
And for that I'm doomed to be squished.

Why did you decide that my skills are not worthy?
Is it because I only think,
Never act?
Or is it simply that I never say what you want to hear?
If I'm truly worthy of more,
Than why is the path ahead
Littered with thorns and brambles?

It's easy to write me off,
For I am not,
And will never be worthy.
But why is it that the ones who are worthy,
The ones work tirelessly producing the honey that makes life sweet,
Are now dying like flies for your cause.
Every day I see them suffering,
And I know that I am lucky,
For I was never given a place in your hive.

I know who you are,
Liar, cheater, and thief.
You're the one who stole the world from me,
The one who will never produce the goods that you crave,
And from everyone else who did. 

     I'm sitting here, thinking to myself, that the only reason I'm on the left is that I'm fighting for a world that doesn't care that I'm Autistic. I'm fighting for a future where if I need something, I can just take it without having to prove that I've earned it or can't live without it. Unfortunately, it's not as easy as just giving people what they need. You have to prove that such a world is possible first. 

     I've been going on daily walks for a while, but not long enough to feel any meaningful health benefits. Mostly I'm just worried people will wonder what I'm doing wandering around town. I suspect they're too busy driving to care. 

A Period of Peace

I don't care if the world
Is the most interesting
It's ever been,
I've earned a period of peace,
And I shall have it
Whether the world wants me to
Or not. 

     I'm worried about our world. It's leagues better than being in the depths of despair, since at least if you're worried that means you still think there's something you can do to fix it, but it still sucks. If you worry about something going wrong and then that specific thing goes wrong, that means you believe it's your fault. If you'd just been a bit more careful, nothing bad would have happened. 

Words of a Villain

 Who cares if my words lack consistency
And my actions lack any sense,
I'm a villain, and to claim otherwise
Shows one to truly be dense.