I travel on wheels
That's the only difference
Why do people make such a big deal?
Even on wheels I can still feel
I'm the same person I was
My soul is the same.
To this chair I am not fused
Disabled, why say that awful name?
The almighty made me
So why do you point your finger?
Disabled? I am abled as you see
You point and my heart feels as if hit by a cleaver
People stop, point, and stare
but really I don't care
Because I am abled no matter how much you glare
I try to stay fair no matter how much they dare to
stare.
I wrote this poem about being in a wheelchair because I amand it also expresses feeling how I conceive how I feel people look at me
Lanaia Lee 2003