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Winter's Child

I was severely disabled, meaning that I needed a carer, 
For most things, like dressing, eating and walking outside, 
But I was not normal in my need of assistance and help, 
Because I could walk, and only had mild CP to abide.  

My mum thought I had a personality disorder for real, 
But I knew it was her that was malicious and selfish; 
We had a personality struggle every time I required aid, 
About god and his predestined love for me in my anguish. 

So along with being not comfortable with my mother, 
I wasn’t gonna move my arms or use my hands in case,  
She thought I’d accepted god and had become christian, 
As that was what she was implying to me by her face. 

So it was easy to care for me, and sometimes a hoot, 
And I could tell she resented it outrightly, bold and stark, 
‘Cos she had thought that I’d be reprimanded by my carers, 
For being awkward to care for as it should’ve been no lark. 

I think some of the medical staff at school thought that,  
I needed the carer to tell me quietly to still my hands,
But I had controlled myself quietly to myself in my bedroom, 
Such that the carer always gave me space, had no commands. 

Obviously it was harder to give me assistance in winter time,  
When I wore many layers, not just one bright cotton t-shirt, 
So she used to pep up in December, smiling at me needlessly, 
Encouraging me to relate to my school carers then and flirt. 

Every year she would have a conversation with me about winter, 
If I liked it the best out of all the seasons and weathers, 
And so I just took her on a conversation detour and concluded, 
“No, I much prefer the summer sun and so as do others.”

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