If my brain and heart could both shut up that'd be nice
Or even better if an inventor could create a device
That could remove these ticks and overactive nerves
That manifest themselves as habits it doesn't take an idiot to observe
I don't know what purpose they serve
But it's eating my time and life up like an hors d'oeuvre
Whether nervous or in habit,
I feel and look like a posessed rabbit,
Rabid with energy that must be expended
A toap on a desk, a scratch to my face or a muscle that must straighten and then be bent
Again and again.
I'm sick of this problem but it shall not win!