edison

(please count the joints of your hands before the continue)...i was born with 28 knuckles a yard and a dog/ 26 knuckles proceeded normally and two were crushed under my own weight...my dog was put to sleep/ now my hands are one of the few things in my life i can't involve anyone else in/ my dog tried to attack me as a baby and went old yeller/ acceptance is all but law learned, and the sense of touch is not trusted... / dogs are buried in the backyard, sensitivity regained/ being a prepubecent daredevil counts for nothing,/ being a man with weird fingers is another story/ i type pretty fast with alot of mistakes,/ i touch like picasso on a tangent/ but grace is all of it./ you see i still have scars/ from nothing more than a rainy day of stupidity,/ or maybe grandmothers rainy days/ but ashamed was never a place my parents took me/ (i think it was too expensive)/ for all of seventh grade i wrote, played and held wrong./ i spoke, sang and tried the same, but i will always know the difference./ doubt is a natural feeling./ things are not touched until you can't feel for seven months./ things are not felt until you can't hold on for nothing much./ now a days....i seem so normal/ but acceptance regulates the grading curve/ now a days...i feel/