A Poem To Those Who Don’t Accept My Tics
People say it’s a disorder
Like something in me’s out of order,
They want to banish it out of me,
But why can’t they just try to see?
They see it like the spawn of satan,
Is the one making me twitch,
But what we really need to straighten,
Is the fact that it’s not just a glitch.
This ‘glitch’ you speak of helps me,
Why can’t I just tic free?
Why can’t we just accept this unique form of diversity?
They want me to be ‘fixed’,
As if loving me and having tics can’t be mixed,
They want me to be ‘normal’,
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,
But you look at me like I'm some sort of crook,
Who just couldn’t give a damn.
I refuse to make you comfortable,
In your ableism,
I’m ungovernable.
You must love me as I am,
If you truly love me like you say.
Do you love me as I am,
Or just as you want me to be?
I want to be free,
Not from my ‘disorder’,
But free to be me,
You were out of order.
Why won’t you just accept me as I am?
Why do I have to change for you?
Why can I not just be loved with my condition?
I refuse to be ‘cured’
Just to be seen as ‘acceptable’.
You likely don’t know what I've endured,
The judgement is what’s unacceptable.
The problem wasn’t me.
By Romy. W
















