Baby with a Rattle

A baby with almost no voice,
Whose will's misunderstood to most,
With feelings equally a flush
Of energy and struggling

Does not begin to understand
The gibberish that makes his world.
All the time. Confusion swirls
His little head; it's all a blur.

It makes him scared.

But those around may know him well,
And if they're gentle and are kind
They'll give him love and make him calm.
But they cannot tell him what he needs.

He wants to sleep, he wants to play.
He wants to eat but not eat that.
He wants some peace but not alone.
He wants attention -- not from you.

But.

He has a rattle, small and loud.
It's his wand to rule his sphere.
And when he throws it, he can cry.
And always someone gives it back.

Naturally, he throws again.
He doesn't know what else to do.
Happiness lasts but a glint,
And with a thunk, another howl.

At least with this game he may cry.
Frustration finds an out to vent.
And others notice his control
Can cross from his world into theirs.

He matters, and that much he knows.

And in my mind, my rattle's blue.
I throw it, and sometimes I cry.
While others may not know the game,
Their gentleness can salve my spark.

I want someone to get my needs,
Because like him, I just don't know
What they are; it makes me scared,
Though I am "old enough to know."

I play games like two year olds.