“Nutta” they muttered
as if butter wouldn't melt.

”Well sort of” she stuttered
gutted to be judged by criteria
designed to make
the ill feel inferior.

She was shocked
that they had mocked
and sad.
”It’s hard for me”
she sobbed
”the words in my head
won’t come out.”

”Tough”
they replied.
Stoney faced
and dry eyed.

Bless.