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What’s wrong with me?

Why am I doing this?

I’m moving crazy now

I wake up in my bed

Can’t even get it started

Clenching tight, so widespread

Can’t even speak about it

Twist my arm, turn my head

Don’t want to think about it

My body’s in so much pain

Yeah

It’s a thief in the night To come and grab you It can creep up inside you And consume you A disease of the mind It can control you

Posing in discomfort

Your limbs are so tight

From all those muscle contractions

Ain’t gonna move nice

Your movements have a clear pattern

Feels like hard ice

Your resting tone is so altered

So if you must falter, be wise

Your body’s got dystonia

It’s when your muscles can’t relax

Dystonia

You’ve got broken motor tracts

Your body’s got dystonia

Contortion to the max

Dystonia

Dystonia

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Mr. Puffin
Medical student by day, medical student by night. Whenever and wherever you look, you will find him blurting, "Yes, may I help you?" in a pitiful attempt to score a 5 on his course eval and justly earn Honors. Like most puffins, he is illiterate, but he is otherwise identical to most medical students. Mr. Puffin can be found grinning over a tear-stained, wrinkled Pathoma textbook, contemplating each of his life choices with an all-consuming indecision rivaled only by that of Professor Chidi Anagonye, generously making annual donations to online teaching aids for video subscriptions (despite being offered their free pirated versions), forgetting and relearning and re-forgetting the physiology of the nephron in an endless Loop of Horror, and worrying. In his spare time, Mr. Puffin studies, tends to his indoor jungle of succulents, runs in circles in solitude for hours, and avoids actually eating any fish, all in the aspiration to emulate the auras of his most influential mentors: the TARDIS, Dobby the house elf, pine trees, Marry Poppins, and Beaker the muppet.
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