The Boy They Couldn't Read

THE BOY THEY COULDN'T READ I was the boy they couldn't read. The one who couldn't plant his feet. The one staring out the classroom glass, Watching clouds and dreams drift past. While the teacher talked and drew, My mind was chasing something new. --- They said: "Try harder." "Sit still." "Pay attention." "Use your will." "Slow down." "Get in line." "Stop wasting everybody's time." Funny thing is... not one of them could see, The storm that lived inside of me. --- So I checked everything twice. Then three times. Then ten. Checked the locks. Checked again. Wallet. Keys. Front door. Back. Always scared I'd lose the track. Because when you're told year after year That you'll mess things up, You live in fear. --- I learned to say sorry before I spoke. Sorry for laughing. Sorry for the joke. Sorry for talking. Sorry too much. Sorry for needing a human touch. Sorry for breathing. Sorry for space. Sorry for simply taking my place. --- Some men drank. Some men ran. I just tried becoming a better man. Tried fitting in. Tried staying strong. Spent half my life thinking I was wrong. --- People called me driven. Focused. Tough. Disciplined. Never enough. Successful. Solid. Reliable too. If only they knew what fear can do. --- Fear of failing. Fear of shame. Fear of hearing those words again. "Too loud." "Too much." "Too slow." Funny how long those echoes go. --- So I worked harder. Stayed later. Carried more weight. Became my own taskmaster, My own inmate. Pushed and pulled until one day, I forgot there was another way. --- I was so busy proving my worth, Trying to earn my place on earth, Climbing mountains. Crossing seas. I forgot that worth was already in me. --- Then one old man by a campfire glow, Said something simple, Soft and low. "Son... Maybe you were never broken. Maybe life just handed you a heavier load to hold." --- Maybe you were just a kid doing your best, Trying to survive every test. Trying to find roads nobody showed. Trying to carry an impossible load. --- And for the first time I saw that boy. Not as a problem. Not as a noise. Not as a burden. Not as a flaw. But a survivor of everything he saw. --- Maybe he was never broken. Maybe he was never lost. Maybe he was learning slowly how to bear a different cross. Maybe every stumble. Every fall. Was building strength for standing tall. --- And if you're still carrying yours, Brother... come sit by the fire. Pat the dog. Watch the stars climb higher. Let the night air slow your pace. Let the silence find its place. --- You've carried enough. You've fought enough. You've proved enough. You've been tough enough. For one small moment, Lay it down. You don't always have to wear the crown. --- Maybe the boy they couldn't read, Became the man people need. Maybe all those years of doubt and pain, Were not a loss, but hard-earned gain. --- Brother... sit by the fire. Pat the dog. Watch the stars. Rest your soul. Rest your heart. The war is over for tonight. Because sometimes healing starts right here. With a quiet fire. A faithful dog. And the courage to let go of fear. Pinoks Vibes Songs for the bruised, Not the perfect.