A pencil and paper
The only safe place to let go.

Let go of that night
I can not speak of.
Let go of the tears
only I know of.
Let go of the smile
I put on at dawn.
Let go of the thoughts
That haunt me at dusk.

A pencil and paper
The only safe place to let go.

Thoughts form in my head

Perfected

Neat

Unscathed


Until . . .

My mouth opens

My tongue flip-flops

Words reform


Tilting inside each other

Melting

Into a demented figure

Then a volcano erupts


From my inner

I scream

I cry

I shout


But the pen touches my fingertips

Quieting the beast in me

“Bleed me”

It whispers


I did

The pen bled my pain

It bled my deepest thoughts

Seemingly only ink cures


My dyslexia
~

Wednesdays and Fridays:
The only days I jump out of bed
Filled with
happiness.
Passion.
Patience.
Excitement.
I walk into the classroom,
Trade my sadness for a dose of jubilance.
I feel alive again.

A dozen 3 year olds swarm the room,
the melting ***.
Labels such as: typical, Downs syndrome, autistic, deaf
Come together to morph into a magical classroom.
“The Tree House Room”.
Differences are not feared in the eyes of these little humans,
They are
embraced.
Accepted.
Loved.

These are the days I live for.