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Wheelchair

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He's in the playground
Sitting in his chair
Silver metal hot in the sun

He's sitting in his chair
Watching Jane sprint
Watching Nick shoot
Watching Charlie kick

All smiles and shouts
Torn and dirt stained clothes
Adorning their nimble bodies
They are flying
He is looking, sitting spotless
in his cruel chair

He lifts his hands to touch the wheels
Forcefully he thrusts himself forward
And then jerks his arm back

He starts spinning on the pavement
Spinning, circling, losing control
Lovely twisting, turning, the wind in his hair
Tired eyes closing, the sun blazing on his face
The world can't keep him down
The world can't keep him down





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