Rat. Further. Kory. The worst: Ferrari. 

All I wanted was to talk with you! Tell you about my thoughts
and ideas
and hopes.
But y’all always asked if I had an accent. Y’all always were more focused on how I said my words than the meaning of my words.

No. Not an accent… speech impediment, they call it. I call it mortifying…
or actually “moaatifying.”

I hate rrrrrs.
I hate that when I focused on rrrrs I start to st-stutter. Or more like st-stuttaaa. Normal talk doesn’t have stut-ttaas.

Stupid Rat, FurRheR, KoRy. Damn FeRRaRi.

But when there’s whythm lullabying my woads,
when there’s a beat for me to talk along to,
then the woad become words, and the whythm becomes rhythm.

I can talk!
I can talk without y’all saying “what?”
I can talk without y’all giving me The Look (raised eye-brows, that accursed amused half smile).
Y’all can hear what I am saying when I talk ‘normal’!
When I normal talk.
I have normal talk and rhythm. I have normal talk because I have rhythm.

Poetry, spoken word, rap, song… people HEAR ME when I speak in poems, because I am no longer an accent.

But wait…

Weirdo little 6th grader speaking in poems… makes me feel more alone. Makes me feel more misundeaastood. How can I normal talk AND feel normal?

Perrrception: all sentences are poems, really. If the mind thinks with rhythm, even if the tongue doesn’t say rhythm… it’s still poetry! But it’s also normal talk.

Really though, the Ridiculously peRsistent uRge to aRticulate my dReams and desiRes stResses my Relationship with my peRson. Self-assuRance is haRd when you feaR speech. HoweveR, peotRy has Rhythm. Now that I Retain Rhythm, I can pResent myself with suReness. 

I “normal” talk now, but I still know I really speak poems.
I speak with whythm...no.. Rhythm, whether you heaR it or not.