Disabled

On the way home from school
i turned the corner and he was there,
in his wheelchair,
his eyes glazed and head tilted over.
i took no notice.

he saw me, he wanted to talk to me,
but he can barely breathe,
on the inside,
he cries,
on the outside,
he just survives.

he can think and feel, and he sheds a tear as he uses all his strength to push a single button and move,
the only independence in his life,
in his times of strife.

he thinks, not does, of all the great times he had before the speeding car,
and as he has his baby son placed in his limp hands,
he sheds a tear.