Number dictate who I will be? The things I will accomplish?
67, is the number that autism assigned me. What does it mean? I believe it just a number. Can’t tell who I am. You can’t tell me how to love. You can’t stop me from making my plans or writing my name in the sand.
67, is just a number, so I am told. Let’s release the negative stereotypes about what it holds.
67, Can you hear me stop talking back! I may not pass every test, but I’ll give it my best shot.
67, make it known. You can try all you want to make me cry. But I refuse to let this number define my life.
67, I’ll rise above with those around me who showed love and compassion for who I’ve always been. Way before a number claimed who I was supposed to be.
67, you may have challenged me intellectually, but that has nothing to do with who I am and who I will be.
67 is another one of those poems that is really quite eye-opening. I talk about how 67 is just a number and I don’t really understand why we all have to be judged by a certain set of numbers. It has nothing to do with accomplishments or achievements or the type of person you’re going to be. I was inspired to write this poem right after being diagnosed with autism as a way to speak out and prove my point that there’s nothing wrong with me in spite of what the numbers say.”