I\'m a puzzle, a mix of me and not, A jumble of thoughts, a dance of what I\'ve got. My brain\'s a maze, where thoughts get stuck, And my body\'s a canvas, where tics get stuck.
I try to speak, but words get lost, My voice is stuttered, like a train that\'s tost. My eyes dart round, my face twitches too, A symphony of movements, that I can\'t control, it\'s true.
I feel like I\'m trapped, in this constant grind, A prisoner of my own mind. But sometimes I break free, and find my way, And for a moment, I\'m me, in a brand new day.
I\'ll take each step forward, with courage in my heart, And learn to love myself, from the very start. For though my tics may be a part of me, I\'ll find my own strength, and set my soul free.
I\'ll rise above the noise, and shine so bright, A beacon of hope, in the darkest night. For though my provisional tic disorder\'s real, I\'ll prove that I\'m more than just a medical feel.