Poetry: “Taking Control”

Tic, Tic, Tic

I am like a broken clock.

Helpless; constantly trying to catch up but never succeeding

I cannot control myself; take me or leave me

Mom told me that when they stare its cause of my good looks,

I know what they’re really looking at;

Some call them tics, but I just call them a pain in the ass.

Scratch that. It causes pain…everywhere.

Banging your head on the wall isn’t much fun

Trust me, I’ve tried

Blinking until you’ve practically gone blind

It’s impossible to function

Picking, bleeding, scabbing, scarring

Take a deep breath, wait I can’t let it out- I can’t breathe.

Helpless; nobody can help me

What did I do to deserve this?

Tic, Tic, Tic

All day, everyday that’s what I was born to do

No quiet, no rest, no cure

It bothers me more than it will ever bother you.

My scars cover my body

They are a reminder of what I go through everyday

I am not a victim; I am my own worst enemy

But my Tourette Syndrome will not get the best of me.

My silence will be broken

The part of my life I’ve been trying to hide from

Now exposed,

Finally taking control.

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