To a ...

You never were normal
but you never knew
That you shouldn't function
like normal folks do

Chalk lines on the asphalt
still no one would talk
Though some read the story
in your tip-toed walk

Your mom shut her eyes
but saw it for sure
Just re-wrote your ending
her sorry-sincere cure

We all remained silent
tongues tied by consent
And maybe that was best
time then was better spent

Mobile: standing and walking
you were able to feel
Emotion in ignorance
though no less real

But the day that they told you
you were a sick boy
a switch flipped inside their heads
that made you unlike their stout son
now you're dependent, decrepit instead

the words, "you sick" didn't do a thing
to wound your fight and confidence
it was the tone of their voice, and loss of your choice
that distressed your belligerence

so late the next evening
when you were not looking
defense slipped out the back door
and left you alone, like your mother's first lover
whom she never sees anymore

since the day that they told you
that you were a sick boy
it's happened just as they've said
you've proved nobody wrong
just showed 'em all right
affirming their arrogance
and promoting doctors to prophets
and by eighteen you will be dead.