There was no point in making me join my meeting
Because my thoughts were fleeting
Because I'm too fucking anxious to share my voice, please spare me from the madness
I couldn't even share a simple greeting You asked if I had any questions, comments, or if I have anything to say
And I do... but I guess anxiety doesn't want me to talk today
No, not even now
In this month of May The nurse isn't my cup of tea
And I feel that I am allowed no privacy,
This makes me very uncomfortable as a teenage girl and,
Details of my butthole are obviously my favorite topic for stranger to know about me The thing is, if I was dying,
If I was crying
I'd prefer to stay and sit in class rather than go anywhere else
I'm not lying She thinks I'm stable
And yet she's a mere stranger in my life and I probably still have proctitis on my table
I have so much on my plate it has overflowed
But I'll find a way to be able Having a bad stomach and anxiety make a perfect match that work
They are a dangerous loop that lurks,
In my background when I say that I'm okay
Yeah, I am a little jerk I'm still anxious and I don't sleep at night
Because my brain is playing back all the mistakes and times that I wasn't right
And how embarrassing it was, and how I will probably never live it down
And tomorrow will just be another blurred day of living in the fog of this mental, intestinal fight
No control
So lay me down to rest
I'm done trying my best
IBD is a troll
My head is a now a mess
It wants you to get depressed
So I fill myself with happiness
I can’t let it win
So instead I grin
It makes you feel loneliness
Put on your mockingjay pin
Life’s not so bad, lift up your chin
Pick up your head
You try to ignore the anger
Pain and I are no stranger
Or lie back down to bed
Be a tanker
Keep going, even if you have to be a faker
Come on
Don’t let it
Get to you bit by bit
Stop singing that sad song
Don’t throw that fit
You have grit
Knocked me down
IBD
Is a bully, he pushed me
All the way to the dirty, cold, hard, ground
And I scraped my knee
But I still try to fill myself with glee
Dear, IBD get lost!
Take a hike!
It’s the third strike
You aren’t the boss
You, nobody likes
You can’t catch me on my bike
I fell
There comes a point
Where you want to roll a joint
You stupid spell
The why bother going on point
I don’t care anymore, even if it can affect your joints
Frustrating
Every time I get back on my feet
I get hit hard on the concrete
IBD hating
After everything finally becomes neat
I get hit when I try to cross the street
This has been going on for awhile
Will it ever end?
Well that depends
Always wanting to be normal, everything in a messed up pile
I don’t want to be your friend
Again
For the world I wouldn’t miss
Could you offer me your hand?
To help me stand
I've got this
I can
As long as you can understand