The Third Person


Who is this third person,

who follows me into the room?

I’m sure I heard them mention her,

which never is good news.

When they mention her, it costs me my autonomy

they even mix the pronouns up,

and take away identity..

Does she get to decide for herself?

when to eat?

when to sleep?

what to do with her health?

All through they never really offer a voice,

they must decide for her,

that isn’t her choice.

why can’t she dress up more?

try looking the part?

like the roles all that matters,

right from the start.

Maybe more frilly clothing?

and a big plastic grin?

what is she a barbie?

I think deep within.

They seem to dullwitted,

to just understand

that the roles are not really the issue at hand,

It’s like your damn body,

has a weird second head,

they could try to fix it,

but slap on makeup instead.

Or just try to hide it,

with false smiles and a dress,

they’re too foolish to see,

the bodies the mess.

Isn’t surgery drastic?

they ask every time,

like she hasn’t the right ,

to make up her mind.

Must be a desire to belong, they all say,

to a community that hates her?

oh no fucking way.

Next they try taking,

her pets and her home,

supported accomodation,

for not playing the role.

Comorbid Autism,

a wretched excuse,

for taking a persons freedom to choose,

I just wanna scream,

why can’t they see?

instead of a magic third person

try talking to me.