I am the child who is healthy and fine,
I was born with ten fingers and toes.
But something is different somewhere in my mind,
... ... And what it is nobody knows.
I am the child who struggles in school,
Though they say that I’m perfectly smart.
They tell me I’m lazy - can learn if I try,
But I don’t seem to know where to start.
I am the child who won’t wear the clothes
Which hurt me or bother my feet.
I dread sudden noises, can’t handle most smells,
And tastes - there are few foods I’ll eat.
I am the child that can’t catch the ball,
And runs with an awkward gait.
I am the one chosen last on the team
And I cringe as I stand there and wait
I am the child with whom no-one will play
The one that gets bullied and teased.
I try to fit in and I want to be liked
But nothing I do seems to please.
I am the child that tantrums and freaks
over things that seem petty and trite.
You’ll never know how I panic inside
when I’m lost in my anger and fright.
I am the child who fidgets and squirms
though I’m told to sit still and be good.
Do you think that I choose to be out of control
don’t you know that I would if I could.
I am the child with the broken heart
though I act like I don’t really care.
Perhaps there’s a reason God made me this way
Some message He sent me to share.
For I am the child who needs to be loved,
and accepted and valued too.
I am the child who is misunderstood,
I am different - but look just like you.
This was sent to me and has no author name attached. I make no claim to be the writer of this piece.
