I'm laying here on my bed
With loads of things to do in my head
I could clear my table of the clutter
Make some space
For somewhere to eat bread and butter.
I could be making a hat from knitting
One of the most relaxing times
I'll always be admitting
I could be in my living room singing
The neighbors ears and mine included
would start Ringing
I could be typing up poems for my book
To which moving to the computer
It's like I feel stuck
I want to do these things I really do.
It's so hard to understand why can't i do things other people can do
Aug 4, 2025
Aug 4, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC
I'm laying here on my bed
With loads of things to do in my head
I could clear my table of the clutter
Make some space
For somewhere to eat bread and butter.
I could be making a hat from knitting
One of the most relaxing times
I'll always be admitting
I could be in my living room singing
The neighbors ears and mine included
would start Ringing
I could be typing up poems for my book
To which moving to the computer
It's like I feel stuck
I want to do these things I really do.
It's so hard to understand why can't i do things other people can do
I'm so badly trying to get some kind of diagnosis, the struggle is real.
Request permission to use this poem