I’ve heard I’m not stupid a million times before.

But why can’t a remember the spelling of the word I knew before.

Before I left my classroom I knew nothing of the world.

Now I’ve moved so far and fast I’m in a different part of the country.

I may not read the correct word every single time, but my degree will show you I fight for what is mine.

The words I say in my head may not sound the same from my mouth, but know that I care so much when i stutter them out.

Thinking and creating are never hard for me but explaining and talking will never be comfortable inside.

I’ve took hours to get it right when others take a minute, but my dreams will come true if I continue to work for it.

Capitals, punctuation and grammar are not part of my writing not for that fact I don’t care for them but they don’t understand me.

Spelling out loud  scares me more than a gun, but run from my writers dreams.

No steps I run, I float above the words that are on the page.

Dyslexia will not make me a slave.

I shall carry the word with me as a scar,

always there but does not define my life of shining.

 

Keep Smiling

3rdofthe3rd.

 

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