my fibromyalgia wasn't hurting for the most of the day,
and then just as i report the good news of that to Mamma,
it began paining and gaining at what i didn't want,
like even when we rushed to the hill on daddy's bike and my scooter,
we got a breath but missed the sunset,
boy do you sure get your exercise with restless BODY syndrome,
like Grandma finds it awkward how it would almost be better
not to comment on the weather improving,
for then will come a breeze that chills her.
AUTHOR NOTES:
i just wrote this on an inspiration from survival scale, not that i shouldn't care about how much cooked potatoes i eat, i'm just the kinda person who like the mood of sit in a chair and eat it all in my state of thinking, though it's a good thing dance and helpfulness interrupts that
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