The Diagnoses of Knowing
I look outside, but I feel the tether,
O, I feel so under the weather.
Not quite myself, more tough than leather,
Down to the edge — what a bluster together.
A bit off-colour, why do I care?
Lift me up, I’m full of despair.
I’ve been awake for most of the night,
Something’s not sitting right.
I’ve been on edge all through the day,
Afraid I might stumble, afraid I might sway.
A bit off-colour, why do I care?
Lift me up, I’m full of despair.
I try to gather, to steady my thoughts,
Pick up my bag, but I’m out of sorts.
O, I do feel a bit down,
Why, O why, do I feel I will drown?
A bit off-colour, why do I care?
Lift me up, I’m full of despair.
A poem about the words we use that have no meaning but everyone knows what they mean
under the weather, Not quite myself, A bit off-colour, Something’s not sitting right, I’ve been on edge, I’m out of sorts, feel a bit down