May second, 2015
They all get mad,
I don't know why,
I don't see anything,
Wrong with my words,
The make fun of them too,
Saying wacky things about them,
But have they realized,
Its friken genetic?
That its why I have colored glasses?
That I can't see its spelled wrong?
Guess not.
'Cause I'm disgraphic.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
DiversosBack from the dead, I resurrect this whatever. Follow me through my years in middle school and the beginnings of high school. Catch me now, freshly graduated, screaming at my younger self. Welcome to the disaster. The only things I have altered from...
