Prototype

The body I inhabit, a prototype,
Imperfect in ways plain to see.
Yet it gets me through each day and night,
Allowing my soul to be free.

A mind that thinks in tangled ways,
Prone to wander without cause.
But within the maze bright ideas blaze,
As I follow my own laws.

A tongue that trips on sounds and phrases,
Fumbling to find the right words.
Still it’s how my heart expresses,
All the songs this bird has heard.

Hands that shake and feet that drag,
A gait that may seem askew.
Still they take me where I need to go,
And help me do what I must do.

A prototype, this form I’m in,
Cobbled together, a bit flawed.
But it’s the only one I’ve been given,
The only one I’ve ever had.

So I’ll embrace each quirk and flaw,
And make the most of what I’ve got.
Though you may see a prototype,
To me, it’s all I’ve got.

My disabilities make me who I am,
This unique prototype of a man.
I’ll accept this temporary frame,
And live to fulfill my soul’s true aim.