The Fine Line

Feeling the eyes of people on me,
The stares burning into me.
They feel I am unwanted.
It's clear in their expressions.
They do not face me when they speak.
They'd rather turn their head than look at me.

I do not understand them at all.
I look up at them because they are so tall.
They speak quickly, not letting me follow.

One single thing different in our image and we are outcasted.
They speak behind our backs.
Stabbing and jabbing us with cruel stares.

I cannot speak like them.
So they push me away.
I cannot use my voice for words, only my hands.
Because I am hard-of-hearing I am different.

They will point at my hearing aids and laugh.
Like I'm a zoo animal to laugh at.
Poking and taunting me, it's all you do.

But I know what the fine line is between me and you.
I'm mature enough to understand, the difference is a gift.
Not a curse.