In different ways, we all bear our loads,
A tapestry of unique struggles that life bestows.
Some are blind in vision, darkness in their sight,
Yet some remain blind to others' pain, ignoring their plight.

Mute are some, their voices never heard,
While others withhold kindness, an unspoken word.
Some ears are silent, unable to catch a sound,
Yet others, by choice, deafen to the cries around.

Some have no hands to reach, to hold, or to mend,
But there are hands that lack the will to extend.
Some have no legs to walk, a visible disparity,
Yet some with legs choose not to stride in charity.

Which disability is better, one might inquire?
To lack the ability, yet still inspire,
Or to have the means but withhold the hand,
To choose not to make a difference, not to understand.

In the end, it's not the outward shell we bear,
But the love and kindness in our hearts that we share.
Worst is the disability that dwells in the heart's space,
Where empathy and compassion find no place. 

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