Apologies spill from my lip instead of practice. What had made me so scared to ask of simple patients? I wear my soul to the bone, and bid my mind to move.
Good grades, full-time, full drive, and would that even be enough? The labels I was told to refuse now sit on my lap. At this point, I’m past the shame. Failings are not failing when they have a name.
Hello, Attention deficit. Autism, how do you do? Epileptic, membership pending. Then of course Anxiety, the exalted of the crew.
There are labels. How are they used? I care not for a blanket to hide under or a shield to deflect. If I use them as excuses, outsiders will object. I don’t want to be a victim to spite what they assume.
Here I am, forced to stand, strong in a way no one should have to be. I think I am alone, but being wrong would set me free. So I cast letters into the void where all can hear but no one seems to see. If you found this poem, speak to me.