The throb of my head is a pain,
The pulse beats and strains,
my will to read, to stay awake.

My nerve down my right arm,
Tingles like a silent alarm,
no jolt, just feeling out of control.

Not a good day to lift over my head,
I might lie down instead but with dread,
that live wire, inside, will not settle down.

Age shows at the strangest times and places,
You remember the names forgetting the faces,
Or is it the other way around, you tell me.

I have built bridges, with many hands and mine,
I have had sleepless nights, but now I must rest, FINE,
over time good days will replace bad, downs by ups.

Who will replace me, as mad as Hatter or in me cups?
Driven downward, not to disbelief but, on my knees,
Sour now my lips move in a prayer, "Remove this disease"

I am not ill, misguided maybe or forgot about hope,
I whine and complain, sure is a poor way to cope,
eyes grow weary, need to rest, this day is done, ...

... did I pass the test?  I will  know,
when the sky lightens, eyes open,
on their own to find the alarm,
next morning, with my right arm.