The Glitch

Crohnically Ill

The Glitch

 

I always knew I had a glitch

A missing piece, a broken part,

A hairline fracture, something off-

Cause I never ran quite right

The doctor’s news gave no shock

Just proving what I knew-

I’m broken, damaged, a factory recall

And I’ll never run quite right.

Some days my glitch don’t matter-

I still leap and grasp at stars.

But others I’m tired,

Still other I’m beat

Enough to break under my scars.

Pain is no rarity,

Just daily routine.

It’s weakness that unsettles me,

That creeps into the rest of me

Twisting, wearing, tearing,

Shifting my existence.

Then this causes worry-

What if my glitch ain’t no broken piece

But the other way around?

What if the glitch is me,

And I’m the reason my part won’t work?

If I were born a hundred years ago

My glitch woulda plucked me from selection,

Cause it ain’t natural to keep running wrong.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t pass my glitch on, either.

The human race don’t need glitches making more glitches.

But I guess I’ll just keep running

Even though I don’t run right.

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