The Cell With the Open Door

What is Discalculus? It means my brain produces the colour red Like a mist that covers and hides Making all numbers dead And all ability to understand slides Away. There are ways to escape and in no way its value diminish One was darts, learning double and trebles rote, and what was a 301 finish! It worked, and so, I was able to take in a little more But not enough to even the score Of how I could never fully walk out of the door Of limitation. It never held me back, strength and have a go gave me a life I could work out my finances as sharp as a knife But my poetry is mainly free verse or rhyme Other peoples poetry so inspiring and in such expanded time Yet most competitions have definite style Need certain syllables or a genius made guile I wish some competition makers can see There are thousands of Poets just like Me.