Pieces of a Puzzle

Puzzle pieces often represent autism
of all forms in the colors of the rainbow,
because  the rainbow is more
than Roy G. Biv when you mix it up,
but every time I see those pieces
they are meshed seamlessly
with no gaps and no blank spaces,
and it does not seem very fitting to me.

See, the autism I know rears its head,
uglier than the colors used to represent,
shatters the perfect puzzle pieces that are without gaps or flaws.

The autism I know is not a puzzle piece,

but a puzzled family

around a pieced puzzle girl,

who is full of gaps that pills try to fill.

The autism I know is a heart clenching,
stomach dropping roller coaster
stuck on that first plunge
that never quite seems to end.
Even on the good days.

The autism I know is full of puzzle pieces
that come from a thousand different puzzles
that do not know which puzzle they belong to.
Don’t confuse my confusion
with misinterpretation of a
movement meant to inform.

I understand perfectly what
they are trying to get across,
but it is on a rare occasion
that I see those puzzle pieces meet
inside my little puzzle piece girl.