Sam

Isles of products hard to touch
Sounds, bang, bang, the mind
Angled foot steps with the temperature hot
As a heater is on in the coldest weather
Bang, bang, repeating in the corner of
Incomplete thoughts
Sam was a good girl
Isolated in her own world
That society refused to explore or let her explain
Under the assumption that her mind map had no direction
Disabled, she had to be to the point
Any ability she had couldn't be seen
Left shoes used and true
Tired of walking to closed doors
To classrooms that weren't made for her
To have a seat, the sounds are ringing
Can't find home again
A rising daughter shows her disability
As a ghost that haunts her