(Written in the perspective of Isaiah, my little brother.)

They point and laugh when I try to do thing

And be a normal boy.

They don’t understand the pain of being me,

I can’t run and I’m not strong.

Yet they persist to beat me down, like I don’t matter.

There’s a curse to being me

And they alone add to my misery.

Will I fit into this life to which I’m stuck?

All I want is acceptance, and maybe just some luck

But every time they beat me down, I still get up again

Right now I feel so small and low

I just hope I can stand up once more.

They don’t know what it’s like to live with this disease

They don’t know how I feel every time I fall to my knees,

And I need help up.

All I want to know is why they torture me this way?

Why do they think it’s funny to add to my misery?

I didn’t ask to be unlike everyone else

Yet still they agonize me every single day

Like there isn’t enough pain that comes with being me.