Dyslexia is the battle scar

that ran across my face

and alerted you to the fact that when you say that to me it hurts.

People used to ask me why I write

why I torture myself

how do you spell this?

how do you spell that?

My fingers creak and crack with the ach of writing for an hour straight

just to learn

just to get it right.

My voice dulled

broken

I left it up to my hands.

Dyslexia is the battle scar

wounding all of us

its visible

behind our words

our ways of thinking.

Dyslexia covers

and controls

my writing

somewhere in-between the meaning of what I wanted to say.

Dyslexia suffocates

and surrenders

against my words

and you

don't you know that when you call us stupid we get it,

it burns

like a knife wound

deep into the bone

we know it

but when you know it

its a sign of weakness for us.

Can't you see

that when you say that to me

it hurts.