I see a man with twisted limbs
Who has wheels to take him home
A kindly man, a friendly man,
Who need never ride alone.
He has no chip on his shoulder,
Though life has not been kind.
He accepts his fate and constant pain,
Revelling in his fertile mind.
Some men fear him because he is different
They try to hurt him, call him names.
Others rally to protect their friend
From the taunts and cruel games.
So, which man is the cripple?
One with twisted limbs that are no use,
Or the one who has a twisted mind,
And feels the need to shout abuse?
Irene C S ClarkHogg
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twisted-limbs/
