A Poem To Those Who Donāt Accept My Tics
People say itās a disorder
Like something in meās out of order,
They want to banish it out of me,
But why canāt they just try to see?Ā
They see it like the spawn of satan,Ā
Is the one making me twitch,Ā
But what we really need to straighten,
Is the fact that itās not just a glitch.Ā
This āglitchā you speak of helps me,
Why canāt I just tic free?
Why canāt we just accept this unique form of diversity?Ā
They want me to be āfixedā,
As if loving me and having tics canāt be mixed,
They want me to be ānormalā,
As if I constantly have to be formal,
But can you imagine,
How boring that would be?
You may not know the strength it took,
To accept myself as I am,Ā
But you look at me like I'm some sort of crook,Ā
Who just couldnāt give a damn.Ā
I refuse to make you comfortable,
In your ableism,
Iām ungovernable.
You must love me as I am,Ā
If you truly love me like you say.Ā
Do you love me as I am,
Or just as you want me to be?Ā
I want to be free,Ā
Not from my ādisorderā,Ā
But free to be me,
You were out of order.
Why wonāt you just accept me as I am?
Why do I have to change for you?Ā
Why can I not just be loved with my condition?Ā
I refuse to be ācuredā
Just to be seen as āacceptableā.Ā
You likely donāt know what I've endured,
The judgement is whatās unacceptable.Ā
The problem wasnāt me.Ā
By Romy. W















