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.
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