tOm

The others call me 'special',
And laugh behind my back,
They think that I don't hear them,
But I learnt to; got the knack.

Just because I'm cleverer,
But can't quite find the word,
I still get sore and sad inside,
My eyes get wet and blurred.

I fidget lots but it's okay,
Cause Mum says that it's "fine",
But she doesn't know it's bad,
At school/away from mine.

Like, one day I got hit too hard,
And got a bright blue bruise,
I tried to stay off school the next,
But Mum had a short fuse.

So in I went and they all laughed,
And I was on my own,
I wish that I was never born,
I felt really alone.

I'm not "a spaz", I just am sick,
The doctor always says:
"It's nothing that will change you, Tom,
You're bound to still amaze."