Why Is That?

I’m not a fool, I’m not a loser

Nor am I an unripe weed

I’ll take on any who asked,

Those are my thoughts

Why is that?

People always stare at me when I walk on the streets

They’re people of all ages, the kind you just meet

Yet some of them view me as dissimilar, always treating me like I’m nothing but one thing.

I’m not a fool, I’m not a loser

Nor am I an unripe weed

Yet so many people treat me like something dangerous

Why is that?

I cannot walk out on the streets without their staring

It made me wonder what I’d done, or if I’d done nothing

They’re people of all ages, but they all react a little different

I don’t see why I have to get so much attention

I’m not different in the head, it’s just that I use crutches

Yet so many of them act like I’m a different species

I haven’t asked for it, I haven’t done anything

So why am I treated by some like I’m some unsecured bomb?

Why is that?

People always make me feel different,

Always acting like I’m a helpless whelp

A weed at nineteen, without a future like theirs

Why cannot they open their eyes?

Why is that?

People comment on me, things I’d rather not hear

They tell me things, smiling plastic smiles of exaggeration

I never know how to respond,

For no matter what I do, it always ends wrong for both parts

Why is that?

I never figure it out,

How to truly counter it

I know I could just let my crutches slip to the ground

I could look them straight in the eye, ask them what they saw

But still, it never happens, I never manage that task

In the end, it’s all pointless

It’s nothing but foolishness,

Treating someone like different for his appearance

Be they Muslim, Jew or Christian,

Handicapped or not,

We all think we’re so good at being fair and kind,

Yet why do “my kind” feel this way?

I’m not a fool, I’m not a loser

Nor am I an unripe weed

I’ll take on any who asked,

Those are my thoughts

Why is that?