Misshapen

Misshapen

Nature made me incomplete
She failed to give me two good feet
The left one’s fine,
It’s well in line
But the other is rather bittersweet

It twists around to a great degree
A much disgruntled employee
Of a brain as quick
as a lightning stick
But useless just below the knee.

A  childhood spent in pain and traction
And futile physiotherapeutic action
Didn’t help a jot
just hurt a lot
To the surgeons evident satisfaction

“Crippled crippled look he’s lame
Hop-along Cassidy is his name!”
I died inside
hid and cried
hung my head in mortal shame

Very cruel the other kids could be
jeered and laughed and bullied me
Until I wondered if
God had blundered
And so resolved to go and see

I did my best to meet my maker
But became a recuperator
In hospice bed
Far from dead
A suicide impersonator

There came an angel in disguise
A teacher who didn’t instantly despise
Nor ridicule
A crippled fool
But tried instead to empathise

She gave me books and made me read
Seeing clearly  an inner seed
As yet unfilled
underskilled
But glowing there, a burning need

She opened up my narrow mind
Allowing me to leave behind
A crippled past
A plaster cast
That held me in  it’s prison bind

Now I write with creativity
And with much publicity
bathed in admiration
bought in proliferation
treated with tender sensitivity

And though I have a leg still game
It seems that popularity and fame
Make folk forget
My foot’s offset
And I am still inherently lame

Written by Archie Wilson