Many thoughts Fly through your Head,
from Time you’re Born until you’re Dead.
Disease’s I would Like to Stall,
the Ones when there’s No Thoughts at All.
It’s scary Stuff to Not know You,
or Have Control of What you Do.
As I’m inching Up in Years,
this Is one of My Biggest Fears.
Something has To take it’s Place,
if There’s only Empty Space.
I see them Black with Wings and Things,
and Wicked Mouth’s that Never Sings.
I’ll attempt to Do my Part,
exercise to Help my Heart.
cut Big Mac’s to Twice a Week,
Sleep eight hours I will Seek.
It’s my Brain that’s Bothersome,
and Not for Certain what’s to Come.
Hope That I can Buck the Stats,
and Rhyming Thwarts the “Bad Brain Bats!!!!”