Mom, did you see how the other kids stare at me?
Why do they treat me so differently, unfriendly and cold?
Mom, hasn’t anyone taught them about epilepsy and seizures?
Mom, do you know sometimes my shame makes me want to fold?

Mom, why doesn’t everyone have seizures like me?
Then I would not feel so embarrassed and out of place.
Mom, why can’t they realize, I really am just like them?
Mom, will my life always be like this? Will I win this race?

Mom, you were sad yesterday, does that mean I am hurting you?
Mom, I just want to be like all the other children, is it my fault?
Mom, I am not feeling quite right, I am afraid it is going to happen.
Mom, these seizures scare me I wish they could be brought to a halt.

Mom, I am almost grown now, it’s time to decide what to do with my life.
Mom, you won’t always be there to hold my hand when the seizures hit.
Mom, you are going to have to be tough, just like you’ve taught me to be.
Mom, I want to thank you for being there for me even if I kicked or bit.

Mom, even when others made fun of me or treated me like I was strange.
Mom, you always had a hug, and were successful in wiping my tears away.
Mom, I just wanted you to know how special your care has consistently been.
Mom, growing up won’t ever mean that anything will keep me from coming your
way. I Love you Mom.

by: Debbie M. Wilson

Read more of Debbie M. Wilson’s poetry at Debbie’s Place

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