I don't mind if you write good or bad comments. I wrote this for my son, who lives with Tourette Syndrome. As you can see, I don't write poetry very often.
Tics
They crawl through my neck,
Up my spine
Down my back
They itch underneath
My skin
And I scratch
They pound at my head
A headache
I endure
They make my eyes POP
Blurring my vision
Balance obscured
They come in spurts,
Or, all at once.
At night
They attack
No withdrawal, in sight
I scream and I shout
Others mock
Or block out
The sounds that they make
Sometimes I feel
I can’t take
The constancy
Of…
How I want to let go
This demon inside
That gets harder to hide
They will never let go
So perhaps
I should
Give in and accept
My regret…
Or God’s gift?