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The Face You Can't See

Asperger’s Syndrome What does this mean? So few have heard Fewer understand How can I define it? What is it like? Once words are applied Meaning seems so lost


Behaviours kept secret For the world that he shares With wife and child only? How can this be? Real, yet intangible Unseen by others How we seem like liars Bitter, neurotic


Uncertain, incredible Blamed, demoralised Yet I am the backbone Why would anyone believe me? I look for your assent You must tell me it is true But you can’t see it happening To you it is not real


He seems so clear, So certain, so adamant No need for compromise His way is best His opinions correct They have to be Or why would he possess them? Somehow I believe him 


But I know … Something’s not right How can I be sure? How can I find help When those who do listen Only pity and placate Look after yourself All men are like that 


Intellectual, gifted, So verbal and self-assured A guide, we thought For a life of purpose and drive Clear-cut values Strong morals too Admirable principles Interesting views 


Activities and interests Show competence and skill Loyal, faithful Committed to a cause


Yet it seems like a façade So perfectly worn For when we go home He’s nowhere to be seen


Just somebody there Who looks quite the same But sounding so different He looks at me strange Misunderstanding, getting angry Taking tangents when we talk Where did it start? Will it ever be resolved?


Where is the truth? His logic is not mine My words carefully chosen Don’t mean what they do He resists my requests He questions my needs He loses touch A disconnected world 


Things seemingly trivial Matter so much to him His children are afraid Not sure what he’ll do Yet he misses the point That we need him so much We need him to love us To be gentle but strong


To care and show empathy Mutual understanding, support But it all goes wrong We do what we can But to him it means something else His competence under fire Every comment I make Is a personal attack


Some friends find him brash Intrusive, tactless, cold I try to explain Smooth it over Mend the rift I feel ashamed Though his rudeness disconcerts Belief in my tale still isn’t won 


His words cut like glass Shattering in my wounds My motives misunderstood My love misconstrued My spirit is broken My strength nearly gone Like a strangler fig vine Asperger’s Syndrome consumes my being Till I wither . . . 


- Anon (3 August 2004)

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