I wore Velcro shoes until the 9th grade

As a child I couldn’t keep my hands from my face

Decade's passed, nothing changed

I'll trim the weeds but I'll never incinerate

Change of plans; I hack and wheeze til I hyperventilate

Celebrations selective in my mental state

Is this high priority enough for the dopamine to redelegate

I think not

Each action graspin for the sweet spot

They leave me or they leave mе not yet

Feelings and people

Two kids in a cot

Truth is I forgot what I wantеd in the first place

Too fixated on complicating the process

Two legs to stand on, height wasted

Truth is I feel like an object

But if its one thing I'm veteran at it's getting the best of me

Playing catch up for so long my legs twisted