A Puzzle Of Me

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.