Diabetic Man

1 On St Patrick’s day my score was nine point two. Maybe I am about to get the regular flu. In spite of all the tablets I take. The magic number Six I cannot make. 2 Every night the Insulin counts to twenty six. Resembling a drug addict going for a fix. I am told it goes into the cell. What good it does I cannot really tell. 3 The Pancreas has gone away to sleep. The reward of all the chocolate now I reap. A perpetual hostage to tablets and syringe. Doctor says that nature takes revenge. 4 Every morning at eight the score I keep. And when it’s high I want to sit and weep. Would I be better off in not knowing. And let sugar keep on flowing. 5 It seems to me I am the master of my fate. At least for diabetes at any rate. I will still have to measure, measure,measure. And build in exercise for my leisure. 6 I know a diabetic man who is eighty one. He still treasures life and has his fun. In spite of limitations we can go on. Live,love life and hum our song.