a little blurb written after reading jodi picoult's handle with care: http://www.jodipicoult.com/handle-with-care.html

more information on osteogenesis imperfecta here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osteogenesis_imperfecta

You are half the skeleton, and twice the heart.
And your family is breaking so often that your breaks seem only like bends.
Like when they sign your casts, they're really wanting to put themselves inside of the plaster.
Your bowing bones are all like branches.
We are all birds, flocking to you with a wingspan of pity.
All cooing over your clipped wings.
Over everytime you lost a little too much feather.

Gravity is always getting you down,
but you swear you never forget what flight feels like.
Even on the days when your chicken legs are weighed down with iron.
Even on the days when everything is coated in clay.
You always have the most beautiful song.