Two legs to walk the earth.

Two arms to grasp at the clouds.

Two hands to tug at your daddy's beard.

Five fingers take your mommy's curls in your hand.

Ten toes to stand on to reach the top of the shelf.

A nose to smell a home cooked meal.

Two eyes to see the world you were brought into.

This is the life you live. You never asked for it, but it's here.

So you just live with it. You go on about your business and live.

And you can't yell at anyone for the way you came to be. 

Because that's what life is; it's made up of difficult decisions

And situations that you have to adjust to. 

No matter who you are, from the child of a President,

To a kid in a shelter, this is what you live with. And you may hate it, 

But you live with it, and you may find that you like it.

But the sad thing about liking it is that not everyone will like it.

Because there are those kids labeled in this world. You can be one of them.

You don't get a voice. You don't get a mind. You don't get a chance.

To the world, you are a hyperactive time bomb.

A nut-case, an accident waiting to happen. A problem worth solving.

And their methods of solving the problem aren't always the best. 

But you're a kid, someone who hasn't even seen life for what it is yet. 

What could you possibly do to make someone hate you so much? 

You never killed, you never brought destruction. 

You just went to school like every other kid, got good grades,

Made friends, made your parents happy, played some sports maybe,

Wrote stories, watched too much TV. Who could hate you?

There are people so strung up on the idea of a better society

That they get rid of the very ones who can make it better

If they were given the chance. It takes a while to realize

That these people are the hyperactive time bombs. Not you. Not the other kids.

They're the nut-cases, the accidents waiting to happen, the problems worth solving.

But they want to keep that hidden from you. They want to turn your attention to a different channel.

That channel is labeled 'You, Me, and Every Other Child Who Seems Questionable.'

And it's not because these kids did bad things. They didn't do a bad thing.

The only bad thing the hyperactive time bombs blame them for

Is living with the color of their skin on their back, as if it's a coat that you could change.