ENGLISH ORIGINAL

They Never Asked Me

Simone Ilgner

They never asked me, never warned my Mum,
A tiny pill in her hand — Thalido­mide — harm­less, they’d hum.
“Helps with sick­ness, helps you sleep, noth­ing more,”
But beneath that calm, the storm was wait­ing at the door..

I was born amid head­lines, whis­pers, and stares,
People count­ing what was miss­ing instead of notic­ing what was there.
Short arms, three fingers, no thumbs on each side -
They measured my body, but they never measured my pride.

Doctors listed limits as if they knew who I would be,
While my Mum saw a spark only she could see.
Dad said “She’ll never do this,” writ­ing fears like a list,
Mum said, “She’s got a finger for a wedding ring — don’t dismiss.”

So we learned.
Not the way others learn — our own way.
Turned what they called disabil­ity into strength every day.
Jobs, marriages, chil­dren — yeah, we fought every fight,
Every small victory felt like reclaim­ing our right.

They called us “victims.”
But we refuse that name.
We’re survivors, chal­lengers — you will remem­ber our flame.
They saw what we didn’t have and called it a flaw,
Every “can’t” became a win that left them wide-eyed in awe.

We don’t want pity. We’re not here for your sorrow.
We want respect — hard-earned, not borrowed.
They tried to define our future with clin­i­cal doubt,
But how we have lived our lives drowns that noise out.

We were scat­tered across coun­tries, oceans apart,
Differ­ent languages spoken, but the same fire in our heart.
Same story, same strug­gle, same silent fight —
Born into battles we never chose, yet we rose to the light.

From Canada to Germany, Japan to the UK,
We found one another and built some­thing they can’t take away.
We don’t share blood — we share courage, shared scars,
A global constel­la­tion — survivors shaped like stars.

We’re not just indi­vid­u­als — we’re a world­wide family,
Linked by resilience, bonded through tragedy.
They measured our limbs, but they never knew our worth -
We’re proof of strength on every corner of Earth.

We’re a world­wide family, bonded in the rarest way,
But time keeps moving, and it takes our own away.
We’ve shared laughs, shared battles, shared every scar,
Now we’re light­ing candles for the ones who’ve gone too far.

We feel every loss — it echoes in our chest,
Because each one leav­ing takes a piece of all the rest.
We were warriors from birth, we were never meant to hide,
But even warriors grow tired from the moun­tains we’ve climbed.

Names turn into memo­ries, faces into air,
And we honour them in stories, in the courage that we share.
We hold on to each other — this family, worldwide -
Because every good­bye reminds us how precious it is to still be alive.

This poem was created by Simone with the assis­tance of Chat­GPT (AI by OpenAI), based on her own memo­ries, personal reflec­tions and lived experience.

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GERMAN TRANSLATION

They Never Asked Me

Simone Ilgner

They never asked me, never warned my Mum,
A tiny pill in her hand — Thalido­mide — harm­less, they’d hum.
“Helps with sick­ness, helps you sleep, noth­ing more,”
But beneath that calm, the storm was wait­ing at the door..

I was born amid head­lines, whis­pers, and stares,
People count­ing what was miss­ing instead of notic­ing what was there.
Short arms, three fingers, no thumbs on each side -
They measured my body, but they never measured my pride.

Doctors listed limits as if they knew who I would be,
While my Mum saw a spark only she could see.
Dad said “She’ll never do this,” writ­ing fears like a list,
Mum said, “She’s got a finger for a wedding ring — don’t dismiss.”

So we learned.
Not the way others learn — our own way.
Turned what they called disabil­ity into strength every day.
Jobs, marriages, chil­dren — yeah, we fought every fight,
Every small victory felt like reclaim­ing our right.

They called us “victims.”
But we refuse that name.
We’re survivors, chal­lengers — you will remem­ber our flame.
They saw what we didn’t have and called it a flaw,
Every “can’t” became a win that left them wide-eyed in awe.

We don’t want pity. We’re not here for your sorrow.
We want respect — hard-earned, not borrowed.
They tried to define our future with clin­i­cal doubt,
But how we have lived our lives drowns that noise out.

We were scat­tered across coun­tries, oceans apart,
Differ­ent languages spoken, but the same fire in our heart.
Same story, same strug­gle, same silent fight —
Born into battles we never chose, yet we rose to the light.

From Canada to Germany, Japan to the UK,
We found one another and built some­thing they can’t take away.
We don’t share blood — we share courage, shared scars,
A global constel­la­tion — survivors shaped like stars.

We’re not just indi­vid­u­als — we’re a world­wide family,
Linked by resilience, bonded through tragedy.
They measured our limbs, but they never knew our worth -
We’re proof of strength on every corner of Earth.

We’re a world­wide family, bonded in the rarest way,
But time keeps moving, and it takes our own away.
We’ve shared laughs, shared battles, shared every scar,
Now we’re light­ing candles for the ones who’ve gone too far.

We feel every loss — it echoes in our chest,
Because each one leav­ing takes a piece of all the rest.
We were warriors from birth, we were never meant to hide,
But even warriors grow tired from the moun­tains we’ve climbed.

Names turn into memo­ries, faces into air,
And we honour them in stories, in the courage that we share.
We hold on to each other — this family, worldwide -
Because every good­bye reminds us how precious it is to still be alive.

This poem was created based on Simone’s own memo­ries, thoughts, and life expe­ri­ences with the assis­tance of Chat­GPT (AI by OpenAI). It was trans­lated from English into German with the help of ChatGPT.