dull ache in my chest
lump in my throat
burning behind my lids

i’m sick

everyday is different
every moment unsure
so fragile

they call you wise
they call you strong
they call you counsellor

i’m sick

no medicine, pills
syrup or formula
will be enough

the need always there
in the darkness
unsatisfied

i’m sick

disregard
feeds the blackened hurt
i embrace it

the disease
seeping seeping
growing

comes out in word
and deed
involuntarily

they know i’m sick

now everyone begins to see
the black empty sorrow
inside me

infecting them