PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I hate when people refer to me as special,

Because there is nothing special about me except that I’m a cripple.



I live alone in a chair of misery,

And I am all I am or ever will be.



I can’t fight your wars or win your race.

I can’t make love to a woman or caress her face.



People feel sorry for men like me,

But I don’t want your damn pity I want you to see.



I have dreams, hopes, and fantasies that will never be real, that I believe.



Don’t stare at me with tears in your eyes, because I don’t see your pain. I see your lies.



You say you would take my legs and give me yours in return.



I say your full of shit and the rage inside me burns.



I cry aloud, “God why me. What did I do for this disease?”



I don’t understand. I don’t why.

I want to leave this chair so I can fly high.



To you God who made me this way; and maybe soon there will come a day...



When I can walk, run, dance, and say;

I am special because God made me that way.