When me legs gave out,
I tried not to shout.
There was an awful tension,
And I knew there would be no pension
But a debt in Hell to pay.
I saw it coming,
But knew better than to try running
Away.
Because when the it
Is in your mind,
And there's nowhere for you to hide,
There isn't anything you can do,
Really.
Other than to sit and twitch away that twitch
When the itch begins to itch.
And hope the tic
Will tock it's way out of there.
When my legs gave way in walmart,
I squatted to the ground.
My fingers rested on the dusty floor,
And others began to look around,
Their beady fish-eyes focusing
On my personal geographic location.
I wanted retribution
On the awful soul who dared to stare
At the poor child that was I
Who crept upon the dusty tile.
I wished to have wept,
But instead I crept,
A harrowed aunt looking back,
But I spurred her on.
"Go. Becuase that will keep me going."
Who knew that Tourette's
Could be so vicious?
Half-thoughts of terror fleeting,
I try to keep from tweeting
As the wheelchair is rushed up.
Now I sit and write,
Awkward, bare to the soul
Of my awful experience in the whole.
........
Yeah, bad poem, right? I just had to write this sucker, though. It's what keeps me sane when my body plays such nasty tricks on me.
Hope you enjoyed!
Kind of cheerful somewhere on the freaked out inside!
--Vox
