Is It Poetry
Dyslexic, The Child - Poem by Is It Poetry
With it being said, it is that are you being difficult.
Pay attention to the detail,
and which by the others by they it is learned.
Ashamed to raise my hand,
and to my teacher, If I had but one wish.
Losing my way and of reading.
How the words move like a line of ants upside down,
why don't they stop teacher please as I wait for hope in vain.
Wiring of writing and how my speech to immature,
I can not articulate my simple thought into your concepts.
Where did this nightmare spring forth from?
Problems you put and I read from right and being left handed.
Is not right and I confess to my self I'm confused.
Completely are they all normal it is said.
Pointed out and why do I bother to come?
They cannot mean, but they do,
and I cannot distinguish every color (it is larger is or, a little,)
As for what ever I gained by there losing I am losing.
With it once was said.
The others I think are to blind to see what I can.
the eye it beholds her,
and I move into other worlds as I leave the rest behind.
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