The mold must have been broken after I had came,
Because my skin didn't seem to fit it.
My feet make me wobble, spin, and turn,
Even my reactions don't move with my wit.
I can tell you I'm smart, that I'm intelligent,
But the words come out unsteady and slow.
My needs and feelings are just as yours,
But many people case me as though,
As though I'm a different species,
As though my life doesn't turn with theirs.
I'm a human being, and I can see plain as any
That they treat me so strange,
I think they know that I'll never change,
So why treat me any different when you don't know how to care?