chronic pain

Some Days

 

Some days I feel like

letting the pain win.

Some days I fight it,

pushing again and again.

 

Some days I ignore it,

until it eats me alive.

Some days I wonder

how I'll ever survive.

 

Some days I just smile,

to hide all the tears.

Some days I question,

how it took them years.

 

Some days I bottle up,

tightening the cap.

Some days I'm afraid,

hoping I don't snap.

 

Some days I pretend,

that this is all a dream.

Some days I wish

I could let out this scream.

 

Some days I beg

my body just to mend.

Some days I pray

for all of this to end.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I started writing again after a long while. I've been in pain every day for just shy of 11 years and now doctors are refusing to treat any pain until I go to a third pain management doctor a month from now...

Injustice!

 



I want to scale the highest peak
upon the tallest mountain,
stand at the edge of the most ragged cliff
and scream,

'INJUSTICE!'


Scream so loudly,
that even flighted eagles shall cringe,
covering their ears
with unfurled wings
at the unwelcome sound!


So loudly,
that the very earth rattles below my feet,
sending rocky debris to the sea below,
causing waves to crash
violently upon the shoreline,
eroding the pristine peace
and interrupting the sereneness of its solitude.


I want my voice heard!
Heard above the din of earth's cacophony,
above the noise of wind's roaring fury
and above the echo of my own
constant...

and wrenching sobs.


'INJUSTICE!'

shall spew from my mouth
until I am parched and sore,
my throat constricted,
my eyes, bleeding tears of sorrow
and my mind

emptied of these burdens.


Burdens which have become too heavy
for these slumped and battered shoulders
to carry on much further.


Burdens I no longer wish to tow around-
all their deadness of weight

dragging me along,
unwillingly
and involuntarily through years
of unmapped and unknown journeys.


So I'll scream,

'INJUSTICE!'
Loudly! Fiercely! Vehemently!
Even though I know,
that in this reality I am presented with,
this living hell of tormented afflictions,
no one will even hear my cries.


For instead,

my strength, my will and my hope
are reduced to that
of merely a whimpering
and weakened whisper...
...'Oh, the injustice.'
The utter, utter injustice.



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Shower Me In Tears

Folder: 
Pain/Ilness

I step into the warming water,
And let my sorrow flow.
No one hears the cries of me-
These tears, they'll never know.

They pool down there, at my feet,
And swirl on down the drain.
I only wish they washed away,
My sorrow and my pain.

Amidst the splashing shower sounds,
No one can hear me crying.
They don't know, that in this water,
Another part of me is dying.

A storm that rages in my soul,
Rattles my core like thunder.
Sometimes I wish the tub would fill,
And drag me right down under.

In there, there is no separation,
As one with water, my tears meld.
I must release this inner flooding,
Too long have they been held.

If only water could wash away,
The moisture of my fears.
Take away all my afflictions,
As it showers me in my tears.

But once again, its time to step out,
Wipe the water from skin and eyes.
Put on a smile, along with my clothes,
Because no one ever hears my cries.

Chronically Chronic

Folder: 
Pain/Ilness

 

Its a life of constant chronic tears,
brought on by the constant chronic fears-
that tomorrow could be even worse,
in this endless, vulgar, chronic curse...

That I chronically call my life...

 

Its a never-ending losing fight,
So easy to give up, as every night,
I lie under the sheets of my total pain,
praying the nightmare won't play, yet again...

But of course, it does...

 

For my nightmares aren't simply fiction,
its just the reality, of these afflictions,
that love to beat me, so far down,
love to see me prone to ground.

Begging on my aching knees...

 

I try in vain, to tell all the others,
such pain is real to this woman, daughter, and mother.
I'd stop it if I could, just for each of you,
and do the things, a woman needs to do.

But they don't ever even hear...

 

So I'm chronically all alone,
In my chronic state of a combat zone.
Chronically crying out at disease,
That no one chronically can even see.

So they all look away...

 

Rather than have to face my distress,
Its easier to make it seem such less.
But in effect, they hurt me more,
emotional pain now piled on my floor.

Next to the physical pile of painful me...

 

Oh, to make the world understand,
even just my own, little part of this land-
That what I have is chronically true-
Such torture would I never wish to you.

That I chronically call my life...

 

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