Autism

My precious child of seven
When tries to talk to me
I don't comprehend when
He tells me how his food should be

It took me months to understand
A simple message he tried to convey
Nevertheless I hold his hand
Even when there's nothing much to say

Months later, he tried telling me through his actions
What he first meant
I could now understand in fractions
And felt terrible to not have been there when he had to vent

I made him go to school
There they called him the 'crazy kid'
There was nothing they wouldn't do to seem cool
Forgetting how in abacus to them he outdid

Sometimes he ate twice
Sometimes threw a fit
Sometimes he showered thrice
And sometimes under a table i found him crying shouting that he wanted to quit

My precious child is now eleven
Each day tough as a nail
He fights mockery twenty four seven
It is an imprisonment with no bail

Time has flown
I look at his photograph
Little withered and little torn.
I wish I could take the burden on his behalf.