A prisoner of diabetes
Like any other good prisoner who craves the freedom, I break out of my cell one in a while and go romping around the hillsides. But soon enough the Diabetic police catch up with me and bring me back.
My hands are always tied in the back. I would like to be free and spread myself wide and reach as high as I can, but the cuffs keep me in check. They are my own good, to keep me and others safe.