Know me for my abilities, not my disability.

A poem is but a thought, a mere memory caught at play. From hand onto paper, bleeding thoughts emerge.

Build your world around me, and promise to never let me go, and if ever their comes a time it may seem crowded, may we expand so love may grow.

My disability has opened my eyes to see my true abilities.

Failure leaves open a door for us to try, and try again.

I can not, and will not judge, by what my eyes may see. For the skin on a man shall not reveal his true identity.

Hands of time move us forward, never back. Only memories frozen in mind, can we re-enact.