It's PRIME-TIME … for RHYME-TIME!

…

Although I cannot--yet--stand ALONE,
I always try and 'work hard to the BONE'.
Since I cannot--yet--talk, I sometimes quietly MOAN.
It's mainly from frustration, as I see my left leg demonstrating 'TONE'.

Alas, I have steadfast determination and iron-WILL.
My tireless 'drive' remains STILL.
I take my "medication" via "G-tube"--not by PILL.
Crud!  I forgot if I paid my cable-BILL.
(Notice that I am too optimistic to rhyme anything with "KILL".)

What were once my "strengths of pride" are now my weakness are my LEGS.
Coupled with my strong hips, I'd carry--and drink--KEGS.
An "outsider" observes of me: "Nerve-regeneration he pleads and BEGS!"
You "norms" think you're so much better than I?  You pompous "REGS"!

Contrary to popular belief, I am SANE.
When my left arm shakes, it shows extreme-focus … not PAIN!
Since my motorized-wheelchair doesn't always turn well, I need a LANE!
Since I was in two comas, the government--metaphorically--"flushed me down the DRAIN".

I miss the having the abilities to taste and SMELL.
During my last workout, I struggled to rotate my "trunk" while ringing a BELL.
Sometimes my caregiver won't hear my buzzer, so I must YELL.
Basically, I'm going through 'a living HELL'!



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