It’s not that I’m sad Though I am It’s not that I’m discouraged Though I am It soaks deeper
I look away Afraid to see Flicker of nerves In their eye A clench
The more you treat me like a nag The more I become one I’m sorry if I micromanage Your clean clothes Your hot meals
How do you describe A man so dramatic? You can recognize him From afar with his hat Always the gentleman
Springtime means Berry pickin’ In warm sun Therapeutic Part of me
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
A healthy pancreas Is like a transmission Seamlessly shifting gears In type 2 diabetics Wear and tear
I cannot apologize For writing what I feel inside If it is hard to read It is harder to live I will understand
Does it hurt? When you prick your finger No I do this just for fun Our fingers lose feeling
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
If you find someone That can do it Better than you Get them on your team
A palomino gallops Beside the highway Look out the window Rides over green hills Through yellow flowers
Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall
Antes lograba tanto Metía horas Sacando lo máximo De cada minuto No he cambiado
The passive-aggressive Guilt trip Is a weak tool For your purpose The sensitive
