His Melody

 People stare.
He doesn't notice their whispers of gossip,
 their controversial chats . . .

He listens to music not there.
 Though his headphones connect to nothing,
he hears the sweet melody.
 This is his melody,
the one only he could hear,
 the one only he listened to.

He is now a grown man.
 Many years have passed
and he has developed skills
 of a regular person,
despite his disabilities.

 He plays his melody,
his sweet melody;
 the one only he could hear,
the one only he listened to.
 This melody he plays
is soft yet a nuisance
 throughout the world.

This melody he plays
 is commonly known as
 This man is commonly know as

The italic text in the last paragraph of this poem is italic because when I showed it to a friend of mine I wrote blanks in those places. I told her, "Fill it in." She did and she told me she named the man Jake because a young boy she knows has autism.

I wrote a few days after I heard some of my friends and even myself call stupid people "retarded." When I heard myself say that to a person who randomly insulted me, I realized how wrong it was. Then when the bell rang and I was going to my fifth period class, I saw a boy who was one of the disabled kids who tried their best to learn whatever they could. He was wearing headphones and sitting down. His head was rocking as if listening to music but I saw that the headphones connected to nothing. He is the person who inspired me to write poetry about the unfortunate because since that day I believed that people should get to know the people with retardation, rather than use the word retarded to insult another.

After reading this poem, I hope you feel the same way.

^ ^

The End

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