My fingers do not work like yours,
but still I seem to type,
my hair falls out in clumps now
and my dark roots have all turned light.
It doesn’t bother me
I’ll wear it back, my friend,
or if that makes you uncomfortable
pretend it’s a new fashion trend.
This is me, this is how I am
but the who that shines inside
cannot be defined by a disability,
even against your twisted pride.
Come now, don’t be afraid
of a ‘cripple’ who talks back
and forces away all your expectations
to start you on a new track.
Oops, did I say something wrong?
Throw a spanner in the works?
Did I wipe away society’s stereotypes?
I’ll consider that a perk.
Treeshallow Musings 