By Michael Caggiano

I am my stutter
My stutter is me
I hate it
Despise it
wish I could rectify it

I used to wonder,
why me?
out of all the people
I had to be the one.
Do you know how it feels?

it's like a hand,
clamped over your mouth, when you most want to speak
its the air in your lungs, just stops, and won't even form words.

My stutter defines me
It makes me
hurts me
confines,
and confronts me

its who I am