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Image for the poem It Comes   - - - (Revised)

It Comes   - - - (Revised)

It Comes
It comes from any direction  
It can come from every direction  
It can be one thing or many things  
It is so hard to protect ones self  
It comes even if you no Kung Fu  
It can come, when you are asleep  
It can wake you, without an alarm  
It can come when you are wide awake  
It comes, regardless of your eyesight  
It could be short, long-sighted, even 20/20 vision  
It is very much like "The Spanish Inquisition."  
It is no one who expects "The Spanish Inquisition."  
 
It'll methodically mauls your motivation  
It will mentally mangle your mojo  
It gets your "Get up and go." to be gone  
It short stumps your stimulus  
It drunk drives your driving force  
It pumps and pushes out your purpose  
It intervenes and infects your impetus  
It eliminates every enthusiasm  
It dents, delicate determination  
It makes you lazy and lack luster  
 
It can clatter and cock-up your courage  
It can gargle and glob, gob out, your gallantry  
It can hump and hack your heroism  
It can greatly grate and garrotte your guts  
It can pause and push out your pluck  
It can destroy and deter your daring  
It can violate and vex your valour  
It can beat down and burst your balls  
It can cleverly create cowardice  
 
It comes like a snipers bullet  
It comes like a blindsided car smash  
It comes like Robin Hoods arrow  
It explodes like a grenade in your pants  
It is a mosquitoes bite  
It's an incontinent urination  
It's a fart you can keep in  
It's a lightning strike  
It's a charging rhinoceros  
It's the matadors cape that won't work  
 
It's your punch in the stomach  
It's your kick in the face  
It's from courtesy and constant  
It's the stream of never-ending bad news  
It's what I call "Cuntage"  
It's two steps forward  
It's four steps back  
It makes you lose all hope  
It makes you desire the rope  
It tempts you to your hole in the ground  
It causes faith lost, that cannot be found  
 
It's like how many times do I need  
It's how many times do I have to get up  
It's how many times do I need come back
It's how many times do I need to rise and grind  
It's the game that is rigged  
It's God that's the dealer  
 
It's a such a good question: Why such a shitty hand?
Written by David_Macleod (14397816)
Published
Author's Note
This was inspired by 3 months of daily yoga and exercise in order to try to get prosthetics. On Monday the hospital informed me I cannot and will not get or be able to use prosthetics. Wind, out and sail come to mind - One more dream crushed
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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