It’s not glamorous.
They say it’s new friendships,
Love, kittens and rainbows.
They say it’s wheelchair races-
All fun and games.
They say it’s drinking and partying,
They say it’s sympathy, handed away like free samples.
It’s broken hearts, tears, desperations,
It’s downing pills with every meal,
It’s pill containers so large they could hold all the broken dreams
And side effects worse then what is being treated
It’s x-rays zapping away what little is left of you,
And needles plunging into your arms,
Crimson blood filling the vials with misplaced hope,
It’s wanting to feel normal but only feeling pain,
It’s exhaustion that pulls you down like gravity.
It’s never ending,
It’s knowing the lost years, and
The years you will lose.
And it’s definitely not glamorous
YOU ARE READING
The Muddled Thoughts of the Chronically Ill
PoetryPoems about my struggle with chronic illness and how chronic illness is approached by society.
