March to my beat
March to my beat poem stories
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s0me0ne
s0me0ne Wordplay. Horseplay. Foreplay.
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
Today, I was labelled.

March to my beat

I remember my parents once gave me a card

I think it was congratulatory

And it referenced me 'Marching to my own beat'.

As if that was a good thing. Not bad.

And I've worn that as a little badge of honour ever since.

I've always known I've been wired.

Differently.

I felt my brain was a little bit special.

Yes, I forgot about shit.

Yes, I jumped from here to there.

And back again.

Yes, I was distracted.

Chased shiny things.

Left things unfinished.

But I also.

Worked.

Shit.

Out.

Came up with a hundred different ideas a day.

Some days I could literally vomit words.

Beautiful words.

I tend to make people smile.

I like my brain.

Today.

My mind was given a label.

Four letters.

ADHD.

Apparently, that's not just for little kids.

Who climb walls.

When the possibility was suggested to me.

I scoffed.

But I read.

And related.

Shit.

Other people were wired a bit like me, too.

It was like somehow a life already lived.

Made more sense.

Retrospectively.

All of my challenges.

Struggles.

Bad choices.

Dumb moves.

Weren't.

Entirely.

My Fault.

So maybe.

Some of those other labels.

The badges.

That pierced my skin.

And daggered my heart.

Could be ripped off.

And replaced.

Those four letters.

Actually don't feel so bad. Comparatively.

Regardless. Of labels.

I still think my mind

Is that little bit special.

Beautiful, in it's own. Unique. Way.

And I will keep on marching to my own beat.

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