Like a work horse,
My body feels worn.
I can’t turn the soil
Of life everyday..

I think I need to be euthanised..
Or at least hibernate
for the weekend.

Painkillers eaten like skittles..

Four varieties of woes..
My body the water,
The pills skimming
Across my Pain threshold..

Hidden disabilities,
a hide an seek of explanations.
You ill today.. sighs..
I’m Forever Sighing,
At the ignorance of others