They said he was mad,
That he was not fit for this world.
Rarely did he speak,
Little fellow, thin and meek,
At whom many an abuse was hurled…
They said he was dull,
That he was not like the rest,
Always lost in his own little mind,
Always lurking in the shadows behind.
He was one whom God had not blessed…
They said he was a wreck,
That he had no hope.
He could neither write nor read,
Himself could he barely feed,
Life was too harsh for him to cope.
Then one day he spoke.
With all the strength he had,
He showed them the people dying,
He showed them the children crying.
And they knew,
It was their world that was mad.
The Man