A Little Nitty Gritty Ditty

I’m dying

Inside

I ain’t lying

To hide

I see you coming for me

Mister Anxiety

Go fuck

Off

Turn your damn head

And cough

That’s right I got chesticles

And, I got you by the testicles

Got you in a vice grip

You try to move and I’ll rip, rip, rip

I break a chair over your back

To make up for all the things you think I lack

I repeat

Fuck you

Take a seat

While I use my voodoo

Concoction of pills

That thwart away your chilling ills

I won’t give up till I’ve won

I’m done.

Poet’s Note: I have intense anxiety attacks. I’ve had a horrible one building along with a migraine for 9 hours. I missed an important appointment that I have been waiting for since spring. I finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to write it out. It’s a little better now; Of course I’ve had two doses of meds now and kisses from my service dog and support dog who are curled up next to me on the couch which is some feat considering that they are both big ass dogs. Please, excuse the foul language, but, if you have ever had a major panic attack, you understand. If not, deal with it. I think this would be a good rap, so I’m giving it to the best rapper I’ve ever heard, my friend, Ian Gabriel to do with as he pleases. With all of that being said, there’s one last thing…I’m out. Mic drop…

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