The realities of

the 3^rd percentile

are being mistaken for an age

not our own

Call us tiny, miniscule, minute,

petite, pint-sized;

But never insignificant,

With a voice begging to be heard

and a heart desperate to be loved

by those around

Dreading the struggles

of outfit shopping;

pants that drag

and sleeves that sag.

The tiresome life

of seeming so weak and incapable,

but in reality being stronger than most,

Overall maintaining a positive perspective on life;

as by necessity spending our days

looking up.