There they stand, hats in hand, <br /> Turning their faces to the wall.. <br /> <br />No involvement, No absolvement, <br /> They stand and let me fall. <br /> <br />They fear to touch, I ask too much, <br /> My illness could be contagious <br /> <br />I’m touched by the devil, hand of evil, <br /> A “Christian” act would be outrageous.. <br /> <br />They’re afraid I’ll fight, afraid I’ll bite <br /> And look at me as if disfigured <br /> <br />They repeat the lies, fear in their eyes, <br /> Believing every tale they’ve heard.. <br /> <br />Surprised at first, they fear the worst, <br /> Should I dare to declare myself <br /> <br />Through all the years, they’ve shed no tears, <br /> Just hid me on the closet shelf<br /><br />Karl Stuart Kline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1-1-epilepsy-is-a-dirty-word/
