The Misunderstood Child

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A poem about children with hidden disabilities by Kathy Winters.

I am the child who looks 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 that 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 that 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 who 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 that 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 that is misunderstood. I am different — but look just like you.

 

 

 

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