Poem: Dyslexic Like Me

I want to share a secret with you

Because you haven’t got a clue

There’s something different about me

Something that you could never see

What if we always sat on stools?

Let’s say that’s one of many rules

You’d sit and share your hopes and dreams

While I am tearing at my seams

We’d regard each other in the face

Yet I’d have nothing to embrace

We’d put down blankets on our laps

To keep our legs well under wraps

You’d never bother to look down

You’d only ever see my crown

So, this is what I want to share

I have a partially broken chair

The stool that I sit upon

Is missing something far long gone

My stool’s only got two legs

It’s empty hole is missing pegs

You never bothered to look down

For if you did, you’d prob’ly frown

Our stools are tall, and seats are round

My legs can’t even reach the ground

You see that I can balance well

I bet you’d never even tell

I really am extremely good

At looking like just how I should

I’ve balanced like this for all my life

Through heartache, pain, and grief and strife

I can sit and smile and talk and think

By now I hardly ever blink

But I’ve never fully felt at ease

Because I fear the gentle breeze

For any gust will make me squeeze

And make me fall down to my knees

I am embarrassed when I fall

I may not rid this shameful thrall

I fear my stool’s not adequate

For it can barely hold my weight

If you could ever know and see

You’d be dyslexic, just like me

Brian D. King ©2018




3 thoughts on “Poem: Dyslexic Like Me

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