I have some tics, they bleed me dry.
Sometimes I want to sit and cry.
I don’t go out but when I do,
my tics act up – I have a few.
I try so hard to blend right in,
but when I do my tics will win.
I growl and click and jerk and hiss,
all things you see and just can’t miss.
I’m loud, obnoxious, and I swear.
It matters not who’s standing where.
My head will jerk, my fingers stretch.
Don’t run away, you can not catch.
Adults will stare and children laugh.
My friends have been reduced by half.
I click my tongue and blink my eyes.
If unaware, you’ll be surprised.
Now you just wait and hear the rest.
I go to church, now that’s the test.
I try to sit still as I dare
and just when pastor says the prayer,
my tics kick in, I have to shout
and that’s when words like ‘damn’ come out.
© 2019, Barb Henson. All rights reserved.