My eye doctor said I needed an eye patch
Like one of those pirates in the movies.
"It's called a lazy eye." he explained

At nine years old, the eye patches with lady bugs on them
and the bubble gum pink and apple green variety were too small me.
My dad picked out the adult kind, which was brown like a band aid.
The package said that it wasn't an eye patch but a medical eye cover.
When I complained, my dad said the colour would help my eye patch blend into my face.
Well dad, it didn't.

In grade four we noticed that for the first time
some kids can't read fast, some kids trip when they try to run, some kids
need glasses and an eye patch. We sniped deficiencies with the lasers markers
and fired with an arsenal of attention, isolation, questions and jeers.
The only funny thing was, that when my eye patch was the new target
they still had to close one eye to look through the scope.

Eye patch on, I couldn't go to girl guides or soccer practice,
or to the shoe store without someone asking "what is wrong with your eye?"
If I had an extra finger, or a scar, I would have been able to blend in better
then I did when I wore my eye patch.
When I put on my eye patch before I went to school, I wasn't normal any more.
I could have had an extra finger or a scar.

After one week, I was finished with being different.
I took some pencil crayons and a marker. I drew on
a replacement eye onto the patch, sketched to match
my good eye and I hoped that everyone would think
my eye was normal again. They didn't.

When I got home I ripped off the eye patch
so my eye wouldn't drown in collected tears.
I sobbed for the people who had an extra finger,
a scar, one leg, a lisp, who were too short, or to tall.
They had an eye patch they couldn't draw over and take off.
As for my grade four class:
I hoped their eyes would stop being so lazy.