Underestimated (Inspired by Dystonia Victim)

He didn’t want to,
but the white suits,
ironed-down collars
with laminated name tags
said it was for his best,
and who were we;
two menial jobs
minimum waged,
a random diploma
an excerpt off a stereotype
made too hype,
to argue?

He was still Hot-wheels
and Crayola fingers;
a vacillating temper,
a dimpled smile,
a wet bed on some mornings
and on some nights
my shirt, a lullaby
and a gentle rock
was all it took;
and how could he possibly
know what’s best for him?

So we held him down,
pulled his legs straight,
had him face the lights
and whispered opioid-lies
to his pain
as we stifled ours.
“It’ll all be over soon,”
someone said as the med
shelled out of the syringe
and into the stems of his being.
His fragile body
was a lost battle,
and we hoped
this was the last war
to be fought.

He’s now five,
and still a dimpled smile
brimming with laughter.
He has no memories of that day
and yet we still ache
for forgiveness.
His frame becomes
more contorted daily,
his posture seemingly broken,
his limbs forever flexed
and still,
he smiles,
as if eyes
weren’t magnetized
to criticize him,
as if words
mumbled under breath
were futile,
as if his twisted contour
made him impregnable
to their despise,
he smiled,
as if he knew
what was best for him…

2 thoughts on “Underestimated (Inspired by Dystonia Victim)

    • Hey, no need to thank me but thank you for sharing that. Glad you can find some common ground, even though it’s not so much in a positive light. I do try to cover a variety of topics and as a nurse, I stumbled upon this particular disease a while back and thought I’d take a different perspective about it. Thanks for stopping by Mr. Dennis. 🙂

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