My body is a temple, one I must uphold.
My body is a temple,
A temple with a few bricks askew?
The foundations no longer stable?
Moss and ivy growing up the sides, finding all the crevasses.
To look at, all but a natural beauty.
I'm weathered at such a ripe young age.
My body is a temple.
But this temple needs a grave.
I can't call the architect,
To tell them they ****** up.
All the sympathetic looks, or sideways glares.
No one truly understand the amount I learn,
from the way they look at me.
My body is a safety hazard.
No warning sign required.
Hips and arms clicking and cracking. Legs, back and neck no better
Ease me up gently and handle with care.
I'll bruise with the slightest pressure.
My temple may as well be completely collapsed right on top of me.
My temple has a leak causing the structure to rot.
I don't have the energy,
To fix myself again.
I don't have the energy.
I'm barely even still me.
In April last year I found out my bone cyst had returned in my right humorous. I later found out I had been misdiagnosed and actually had something called Fibrous Dysplasia (https://www.fibrousdysplasia.org/)
Which is something a lot more serious than an Anuerysmal Bone Cyst which is what I previously thought I had.
Without sounding mellow dramatic I hope I was able to portray how my body feels on a day to day basis with chronic pain.
— The End —