STROKE

I like to hear myself talk.
Talk means writing
To me
Since that damned stroke.
But I used to talk,
Really talk
To make a living,
But I near ‘bout went broke
Since the stroke,
Since the god awful stroke,
But who’s to say!

It could have been worse,

But it’s still a curse.
When I look for a word
To rhyme
With, Oh what the hell,
The only words that comes to mind are
Oh, shit!
Then you are in trouble
Up to your eyeballs.
Or down
Depending upon your stance,
Then you take the chance
That therapy is the answer,

Speech, that is.

Then just when you find
The word
To rhyme
With, Oh what the hell,
Your medicare
Is all used up
And you are back to
Oh, shit.

Again!