I was born like an
Ordinary child as were thee.
But the ghastly February
Brought a gift of illness to me.
It transformed my world into
A dark and silent place to live
I couldn’t even learn to breath,
It was too early for me to believe.
I was left with no way to put across
My expressions were left in me.
Not could I speak so meek,
Neither could I hear nor see.
My garden was the one
That my mind could read.
Paradise of my childhood with bees,
Nothing else was left that my heartcould feed.
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