Ironic comes the curse in store,
When brain damage, dims your mind for sure,
When half-wits are, talking down to you,
Not sharp enough to get your due,
A judgment you endure.
You see the way they laugh at you,
Look down their long nose snotters, blue,
Sad sack the name they give you too,
Poor dummy, can’t ignore?
15 years of suffering,
stupid things, home they bring,
till me brain then gets restored,
intelligence comes forward,
no longer now abhorred,
I served me time, have you?
Millions of judgments in the earth,
Born no arm, no eyes, your worth,
What logic does ensue,
You and the family suffer too,
All at different levels true,
It is no cause for mirth,
Gods judgment in the earth,
You can’t quite see it blue?
Closed minds will have to do?
Till perhaps rebirth…
Copyright © DON JOHNSON