She stammers while talking

He shivers while holding stuff 

She can't read the blackboard from the third  bench

He finds an elementary problem tough.

He has bent fingers

She has a displaced tongue

Some are attaining oldness

despite being very young.

Like an underdeveloped flower

In a flourishing garden 

We make them feel unwanted 

We make them feel like a burden.

His nerves might not carry stimulus

But the heart is still beating

Avoiding dealing with them

Is still a sort of ill-treating.

Like "disabled" and "handicapped"

There are no such things

Wheels replaced your feet 

But You still have your wings.

Their toes are already twisted 

Let their path be linear

We should stop calling them victims

As each one of them is a survivor.