My dad is sleepy.
He cannot move.
His medicine makes him tired.
His medicine makes him mad.
It's the medicine.
He's yelling because of the medicine.
"It's making me frustrated,"
Oh, okay, father.
I believe you.
I understand.
My medicine makes me tired,
Though, you call me lazy.
My medicine makes me moody,
Though, you call me dramatic.
But that's okay.
I understand.