A Poem

My brain is so tired, it is turned to mush.
It feels like oatmeal, a watery gush,
Of facts, and figures, and chemical things,
That are supposed to be elements, but continue like strings,
Of data and colors and numbers and goop,
Of gobbledy, goobledy, gookidy-goo.
I'm studying chemistry, studying facts,
Studying psych and research and math.
Numbers and figures and letters, oh my!
They get in the way of the things that I try,
To make the main purpose of what I achieve,
On what I focus, on what helps me breathe.
My children, my art, choreography, and tunes,
The moments my Love brings and acts as my muse.
I cannot stop now, I cannot go back,
I refuse to accept that I cannot attack,
All of these things,
My brain cells are fried,
Yet even though it causes great stress inside,
I keep trudging forward, hold onto what's there,
'Cause one day the stressors will know to BEWARE,
Those people who doubt, those who don't trust,
I've got this. I know it. Hear this,
EAT MY DUST.

~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress