That poor man, look at him sat there
On his own, shopping for one, no friends or love, bound for life in that hideous wheelchair
Do I talk for him or would that be a sin
It's the modern world, he does as he wants, his decision to be here, I'll leave it down to him
He looks up, can he reach that product, think I'd better go over and help
Can I assist you sir, shall I pass it to you or can you easily get it for yourself
Was this wrong as he sits now in silence, overstepping a mark of just plain goodwill
He looks up at me, a smirk of delight, and relief drains from me like the bitterest pill
Thank you young lady, as I hate to sometimes ask
As to you of course, it seems the simplest of tasks
Because this is not as it's always been, the paraplegic position of that poor individual
Fancy a chat, a coffee in the cafe, and I will tell you the story of how I became so crippled
A state of empowerment now downtrodden, as the view becomes less clear
It’s hard to tell in the blink of an eye, of a life we all so fear
Explanations, requirements, everyday necessities and drugs on a weekly prescription
I could bore you for hours of this tedious droll, but those things become an addiction
So as you can see, I’m not that wee poor man just looking lost in the supermarket
I have a life, I have a heart, I just can’t find a way to prove it
For I am a regular man, now operating in turmoil
As I have already put into the title
This para, really is normal
JJB