Often I wish I remained a toddler,
only then life was less brutal
and my heart was less cold.
I could not spot acts of betrayal
because my mind was still wet.
But eventually, I was forced to mature
and I realised pain is my everlasting tenure.
I can read actions and expressions
even though I fail at my own obligations.
I’m disappointed at my creator
for subjecting me to such cruelty
and making me so awfully different.
Isn’t there another body I can rent?
For I feel like I’m a burden,
one which was always hidden.
Right now my days ain’t the same,
instead they are more tame.
They are characterised by seclusion.
Loneliness sometimes dresses as confusion.
I guess that’s why I was relocated
or rather given away pricelessly
to a place where there are burdens like me.
Where I only see the sunset by my window
and I’m always behind closed doors.
I even forgot how touching the ground feels.
This is a place where wrecks are dumped,
each one with its own defect.
Oh, we greatly wish we could be perfect.
For some of them, mobility is a dream
tears carrying them like a scream.
Some of them, their eyes are covered by mist
only sound becomes their visual artist.
Some of them, the words they utter ain’t audible.
some of them are physically different.
This makes us feel inhuman.
I have seen how people regard me.
Mostly, they portray pity
make me wonder if I’m witty.
At length, some run away from me
as if I house deadly viruses.
Some laugh at my expense
like I’m a visiting clown.
These things occurred in the absence of my mother.
The only memory I have, is her giving me away
and her heart piercing words,
“You are not the fruit of my womb!”
To whoever I may belong,
all I ask for, is to be loved and accepted.
And please don’t take long
to save me
and take my friends from this burden.