The Ballad of Wheelchair Bobby (Revised)
I've been in this rusty old wheelchair
since as long as i can remember.
Everyday i feel a part of my youth,
fading past my clenched fingertips.
My dreams were once bigger than the fiery sun,
Now my crippled legs deceive me.
What I wouldn't do to be able to run.
I feel tied down to this cold metallic chair.
My friends have left me.
They run and play on the blacktop streets,
choruses of laughter echo.
I crave for a mere taste of freedom,
but i know my high hopes will never come to be.
My wishful thinking,
never true.
What is a poor boy with no legs to do?
No comments:
Post a Comment