Imperfections Monitored
Imperfections Monitored I was too young to understand To young to know Imperfections were monitored Lady said I will never talk normal She took off the collar Connected by a stream of wires To a machine After it vibrated my harmless voice box Being a child at the time I thought I was receiving shock treatment Lady said, I will not talk like the other kids. She picked the wrong word. I said it the wrong way. Unable to Repent. Is that an accent? Strangers would ask often. Am I from New York or Bostan? I would stay quiet. Knowing My voice comes through a pen. Black ink flowing off the page. Since I realized I would never talk like the other kids.