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.