32 to 9, Rhyme.

Credit: healthybalancefitness.com.au

Imagine a kid, on the last bench of a class

He couldn’t make friends, he couldn’t write or draw

Logic left his head, long before the bell

Using his finger as people, he would idly finger wrestle

—-

Maths never made sense, formulas weren’t strong

He wasn’t so dumb, but he was truly so lost

He gave it his best, he gave it his all

But it wasn’t meant to be, he wasn’t born a star

—-

He never felt so different as he felt alone

He saw them all go by, tried to follow in tow

But failed and fraught, feeble as day goes by

He never forgot to smile, soaring hopes every single time

—-

Imagine a kid at the last bench of the class

If I had a chance, I would sit next to him and say, Hi

You may not draw, dance, skip, jump, win or whine

You may not understand numbers or make friends on the fly

But worry not my friend, one day life may just turn out fine

You shall look back in time, not so feel so bad as you type with a smile,

“Well I couldn’t do those things, but thank god, I could at least write:-)”

—-

@seethingsage

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