Shadows in the Noise
Skye Jordan
// This song is about my actual point of view of someone with autism feeling out of place in a world that feels overwhelming and difficult to navigate. Below is a poem I’ve made to accompany the music. //
In the shadows, the world stretches,
a labyrinth of noise and pressure,
clutching at my chest like invisible hands,
tightening with each breath,
until the air feels too thin,
and the edges of everything blur,
flickering like broken lights.
I am a ghost in a room full of people,
my skin too tight,
my thoughts too loud,
their words crashing against me like waves
that never stop.
I don’t know how to speak
when my mouth is full of glass,
when every sound feels like a scream
waiting to escape but choking on itself.
They don’t see it,
this constant hum beneath my bones,
the rush of the world crushing my soul.
They don’t understand that I am not hiding,
I am drowning.
And no one knows how deep the water is.
Eyes watch me,
too many eyes,
always too many eyes,
judging the way I blink,
the way I stand,
the way I breathe
like I am an anomaly in a crowd of normals.
There’s no place for me here.
No space to fit, no room to breathe,
just a world that presses and pulls,
splitting me into pieces,
each one feeling wrong.
I try to fold myself into something smaller,
something softer,
so I won’t be noticed.
But they still see me.
They still look,
and I am still not enough.
Too much, too little.
Too broken.
Too strange.
Sometimes, I wonder if I could fade away,
become a shadow,
become nothing—
silent and unseen.
Maybe then, the world would be less loud,
less cruel,
less full of things I cannot understand.
But the silence never comes,
and I am still here,
shaking in the dark,
fighting for air.
In the shadows, the world stretches,
a labyrinth of noise and pressure,
clutching at my chest like invisible hands,
tightening with each breath,
until the air feels too thin,
and the edges of everything blur,
flickering like broken lights.
I am a ghost in a room full of people,
my skin too tight,
my thoughts too loud,
their words crashing against me like waves
that never stop.
I don’t know how to speak
when my mouth is full of glass,
when every sound feels like a scream
waiting to escape but choking on itself.
They don’t see it,
this constant hum beneath my bones,
the rush of the world crushing my soul.
They don’t understand that I am not hiding,
I am drowning.
And no one knows how deep the water is.
Eyes watch me,
too many eyes,
always too many eyes,
judging the way I blink,
the way I stand,
the way I breathe
like I am an anomaly in a crowd of normals.
There’s no place for me here.
No space to fit, no room to breathe,
just a world that presses and pulls,
splitting me into pieces,
each one feeling wrong.
I try to fold myself into something smaller,
something softer,
so I won’t be noticed.
But they still see me.
They still look,
and I am still not enough.
Too much, too little.
Too broken.
Too strange.
Sometimes, I wonder if I could fade away,
become a shadow,
become nothing—
silent and unseen.
Maybe then, the world would be less loud,
less cruel,
less full of things I cannot understand.
But the silence never comes,
and I am still here,
shaking in the dark,
fighting for air.