Wheelchair

I once saw a girl in a pink wheelchair,

But I don’t think anyone else did,

Always looking away as if was a contagious impair.

 

She was trying to act normal,

And keeping really still,

Trying to control her arms and legs,

That always moved against her will.

 

And I wish I had enough courage,

To walk up to her and say,

“Don’t try to normal,

Just because you feel like running away.”

 

I’m sorry your legs don’t work like mine,

And I never appreciated it before,

But thanks to you,

I’ll never over look it anymore.

 

I’m sorry people see your condition,

Which is not at all of you,

But people never see that,

Because their point of view.

 

You can never run away and hide,

Like I can always do,

And when there are games to be played,

I wonder if anyone invites you.

 

It must be hard watching from the sidelines,

And watching actions seem so effortless,

And I don’t think people even realize,

The extend of their unkindness.

 

But as for me I now know,

I’ll never look at you differently,

Because I now understand,

How hard it must be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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