Diabetes

I’ve one condition, by admission,

Hard to deal with, to get real with.

Required planning, rules are spanning

Every hour.  I’ve little power

To control, no, to cajole

My own compliance.  My defiance

Deeply rooted, hardly suited

To my good.  I wish I could

Feel this was easy, this disease I’ll

Not get out of — I’ve no doubt I

Could mistreat this diabetes.

But, instead, to get ahead

I will comply, stop wond’ring why.

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