So odd,
a chair with wheels.
So odd,
a cripple with wings.
How does unbounded creativity
flow like water rushing from a barren field.
How does beauty the color of vibrant Spring
push its way past decay?
Until black death sucked me away,
drowning me in pure spite,
in bitter resignation to a hope run dry.
The wheelchair was my captor
and my only friend,
for it never left me.
So odd
that a girl so full of life
would be thankful for a metal best friend.
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