my cure has not come by way of anecdotes
i've been the butt of alot of jokes
it picks and it pokes
it claws and it chokes
my success has not come by way of acquaintances
i've done it myself and it's still there
it wastes and wears me down
it takes and tears me down
i need you to hear me now
i swear my screams are loud
i swear my voice is tough
i swear my choices are rough
my disease is fear
my cure is anger
9/7/06
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Has sort of a rebellion odor from fear to anger