Your ordinary day is very different from mine
It is the kind of day that breaks into song
That smoothly blends from one scene to the next
With little complication or care to details
It is a day I could only dream of.
Though I rarely dream with this disease
This illness running through every vein
Turning my smiles into forced grins
The light in my eyes dulling
My hair and skin is tainted, touched by this sickness.
I wake up every morning, toxins flowing through me.
I wonder what it is like to have an ordinary day.