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In the spinning, clanging chaos of modernity,
with ASD, ADHD, and alexithymia, my triune reality,
tyrants in my skull, not one moment free.

Concentration’s a farce, a joke, a lie,
my mind a drunken bird, forever awry.
Lost in the pans’ sizzle, and the city's ceaseless cry.

I wage a silent war, no Spartans by my side,
in the shadow of the urban forest, where I reside.
My defense, it seems, has gone with the tide.

Battling the phantom, the changer, the thief,
my emotions held hostage, beyond belief,
Life, my old friend, offers no relief

Yet here I stand, neither fallen nor meek,
finding poetry in the strange, the offbeat, the bleak.
My tale ain’t pretty, but it's uniquely chic.