misdiagnosed misguided marginalized
and a taste of your own murder
It's me, you Prozac wielding sweatlick. I'll put you in the water supply!
You quack like my back. Look at my spine... it's a polluted old curse.
Do you know what a brain tumor even looks like?
like an egg with pigsgills.
But you don't give a misdiagnosed damn.
They put me in a closet and stone my wrist numb
then a needle stick (owie) probe around without a vein
and shoot rainbows up my nose when I tilt my head back in the Grand Canyon
for a bottle for a dehydrated dead arm
shooting seaturtles up my veins you're just like the last guy who misdiagnosed me
who wanted to try my scoliosis though I was full up pregnant
with a cyst – you can't do this, I'm damaged for life – Shimata!
You think you can get away in your white Dr's jersey
from this sterile room needle drip – Is that your fault too?
with your misfit pronunciation – rattle rattle –
that nurse, she knows everything in my blood folder
You can't leave now, my pretties, not while I have your spleen--
yummy, we'll have sausages later – I'm sore, wah. You girl-dissecting freak.
Someone's talking behind your back – it's me! I am stone, watch me, my
sister eyes of famine. Watch me sneak up behind and push you right in.
Malpractice, why? You'll die someday too. Good for me!
I'll make it comforting, wet, slick
'til you just dissolve away