Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ren 4d
Today my knee popped again.
For the fifteenth time since it's began.

Skinned palms from breaking my fall.
Again, the hot blade of searing pain.
I hate how these are things I can perfectly recall.

I've sworn myself not to cry;
instead, my body goes into shock.
Screaming as if I were to die.

Catching my breath, the agony is finally over.
I used to be helped up from the ground.
But now, I get the cold shoulder.

In Phy Ed. class, they whispered that it was for attention.
I found that funny, considering I hate that.
And the brace, I would never mention.
Hello? Customer service? Can I get a refund? My knee doesn't seem to be working properly.
Rowan Wolff Mar 8
Nerve damage is
A **** I wouldn't wish upon my
Worst enemy
Six hours of
Constant agony
Sapping my energy for
Anything but curling in the
Fetal position, phone on hand
I can't think
I can't function
Trigeminal neuralga
The most innocuous name
For incurable torture
Not my best poem, but if I don't talk about this I'll probably have a meltdown, which is no bueno when your face feels like it's been set on fire hahaha rip me
Jasmine Feb 27
I remember the happiness of being a child
I remember the blissfulness of climbing trees
I remember smiling wide for pictures with new friends
I remember pleading with my mom to stay outside longer
I remember coming to the age of double digits
I remember the phases my mom said wouldn’t last
I remember laughing about the phases later
I remember finally forming friendships with my brothers
I remember saying “I’ve been alive for a whole decade!”
I remember reaching the teenage years
I remember the gradual downfall
I remember asking for the room to be quieter
I remember staying home more frequently
I remember sleeping less
I remember the distinct hospital smell
I remember the confusion on my doctor’s face
I remember the yellow prescription bottles
I remember the disappointment on my parent’s faces
I remember clutching my head
I remember begging for relief
I remember the boiling in my chest
I remember yelling at the sky
I remember asking, “Why me?”
I remember the hopelessness
I remember desperation
I remember nearly giving up
I remember the acceptance of chronic pain
Now, I’m left with memories
Of the happiness of being a child



-j.h
mid-day reveries
leave me many miles away
in another time

if I only worked
like I tried to avoid work
the world would be impressed

"just do the dishes!"
I tell myself, but I can't
seem to get focused

"why can't you be normal?"
I ask myself
in reply, I scream internally

I'm blessed with a curse
that leaves me dreaming
and drifting away

I'm sorry, love
I don't mean to ignore you, it's just
so nice over here on my little cloud
Eric Jan 10
Every step , into a new day.
Has tipped my scales ,with deep
Thought at play.
I drown myself with thoughts
Of pain.
I know I never gain , Im the one
Who will pay.
So now I sit back and try to forget I'm not sane.
We are now entering the chronic age .
Feelings of a song I wrote .
Anna Jan 6
I know so many women in pain.

I see you.

Women who know exactly where their strength ends.

Women who sit in darkness and plan how to thieve purpose from pain.

Women who have chosen to survive in the desert.

Women with muddy forearms and gold-dusted fingertips, who have learned to mine treasures from the dark earth of their circumstance.

Women who choose humour and grief over numbness, who choose to be brokenhearted rather than hard-hearted.

Women who walk the uneven ground of their mental health with grace and wisdom, steadily.

Women with towering spirits who are becoming more soul than bone and blood.

Women who hold their families together in their hands.

Women with their hearts half in heaven. Earthside women.

Women who steal starlight from darkness.

I see you.
ab Dec 2018
why is there a line
between living wholly
and holding on to scraps
of grieving our futures

why am i grieving a life
i haven't lived yet?
or why aren't i filling it
with the kindness of years

well lived? when you realize
your own mortality, does it bite
you as hard as it bites me?
you won't talk about it though.

none of us will.

it's a cycle of awareness
i've barely spoken to you because you
are being reminded day in, day out
that breathing is optional to your body

i am sickeningly aware that
my dosage is wrong
and my blood is pounding in my kidneys
and behind my eyes

you're having a series of bad days
i wonder if your body screams like mine
or if the pain ties you in knots
but i know you don't talk about it.

none of us do.

we pretend we're not sick
and that the ringing in our ears
or the bubbling behind our teeth
doesn't mean anything

"it's fine, i'm used to it"

it's not fine.
it is the ultimate self-denial,
the breakdown of our bodies
things we choose to forget

when you chose me,
you chose somebody who knows pain
somebody who is also afraid
and would sometimes rather give up

but you now know someone else
who is grieving.

are you grieving?

i heard that grief
is just love with
no place to go

and life is one of the greatest loves

through life i can love

no matter how my body
wants to take it from me.
~chronic illness isn't cute, it can rip people apart even if it's "not a big deal"
Kat Dec 2018
Maybe it was just a dream
I wake from nightmares
Of appointments, of arguments,
Of doctors, of dentists,
Of PT, of pain
But when I open my eyes I realize
None of it was real
And relief seeps through every
Pore of my skin
Washes over my body
Like the first summer rain
It felt so real
But it wasn't real
Just a dream
And I am safe

Maybe it was just a dream
Opening my eyes to frantic faces
Going to school the next day
Cause I thought I was ok
Weeks of x-rays and stories to explain
Weeks of eating food through a straw
Weeks of hardly talking at all
Then
Months of pretending I was all right
When every new symptom
Showed I was not
Followed by
Months of not knowing what was wrong
Could be a concussion, could be anxiety,
Could be stress or a vitamin deficiency
Then
Months of anxiety
I feel like it's severe
Months of pills and uncertainty and fear
Every day
Now dictated by worry
How much should I do?
Can I exercise again?
Why does my head still hurt?
Why why why why WHY
A never-ending cycle
While life is passing me by

But then I realize
It wasn't just a dream
The appointments, the arguments,
The doctors, the dentists,
The PT, the pain
It is all real
And the relief I feel
Just as quickly abates
Replaced by a terror
I cannot quell
As worries flood into
My wandering mind
Just another day
I have to get through
It is never just a dream
Anymore
Kat Dec 2018
My parents know I’m anxious
But they don't know
The truth
They don't know
How much this illness has taken over my mind
How mental and physical anguish combine
To hinder my body and hijack my brain

They don't know
That every day I sit at work
My body shakes with panic
Seized with fear, stomach clenching
My thoughts race like lottery wheels
Like cars in a race with no finish line
There is no end to this madness

They don't know
That every day I sit in class
Every symptom sparks fear
That flares up in flames
Consuming my body
Turning my bones to ash
Charring my skin beyond recognition
It doesn't take much to ignite this fire
The coals are always hot
Stoked with the air
Of physical pain
Of neurotransmitters that don't function right
Brain chemistry gone wrong
Or maybe I'm just looking for a scapegoat
And the only thing I have to blame is myself

They don't know
That more days than not I cry
Body heaving with swelling sobs
Tears rolling down my cheeks like rivers
Stomach aching with the invisible wounds
Of a knife that twists and turns in my gut
Spilling my hope and my hurt and my hate
For all to see

I tell them I write poetry
But they don't ask what it's about
And I don't tell them
Cause I'm afraid to tell them how I feel
Afraid to see the sorrow on their faces
Afraid to hear the anger in their voices
Afraid that instead of comfort I'll hear concern
And I won't be able to explain this pain I feel
So I write my worry into words
That lie like a lioness locked behind bars
Where they can't hurt anyone
Except myself  

My parents know I'm anxious
But I don't think they know what anxiety is
Not really
Cause anxiety is more than simple worry
Anxiety is a monster
And I'm afraid it's going to swallow me whole
Leaving nothing behind
Except the wispy remains
Of the ghost of the girl
Who wished she could be free
Of this burden

My parents know I'm anxious
If only they knew
The truth
Convalescence,
How are you?
Better,
But I've been saying it
Since the beginning.
Are the whispers inside true,
That maybe I can finally start to believe it?

What did it take,
Some may innocently wonder.
Patience.
With every single breath I make.
I've been half trying to ignore the improvement,
Fearing one moments notice will
Surely steal it all back.
"No," I whisper alone, "I want to be better."

The other half
Astonished,
I try to be proud for the little things now,
So really I should feel
Amazing.

I swear I do very much venerate all of my achievements,
It was the only way,
That I could continue to survive.

Unequivocally honestly,
I'm afraid.
Scared of it all going wrong again.
Waiting to feel the terror of all the endless times I've tried,
Getting thrown right back in my face again.
Because isn't that what's been destined to happen
From the very start?

I've been having an almost
Two month long rest,
A complete break of everything.
It was only meant to last a month, but after that month had been and gone,
It started to actually feel
A little better, brighter,
Less dark.

I'll admit it,
I'm guilty,
Guilty of getting comfortable with how it started to feel.
I didn't want it ripped away from me,
Please.
I know once it's gone it will be hard as **** to get back,
I've already been through all that,
I am still.

I want to get back to pushing myself.
(Like this)
I never wanted to stop,
But I had to listen,
My body was screaming at me, for me
To stop.
And this evidence is telling me why I had to listen.
It seems you can't beat your body,
Ever, but especially not when it's fighting for you and against you.

And the symptoms yelled
Please stop, please be still,
Like they wanted me to sleep all day,
But still it will take half-a-year for there to be any difference.
But I waited.
I didn't get any choices.

So now, I'm sorry
It just terrifies me that trying,
When I finally let it be,
Might tear me back down, to where I used to be.
I'm not foolish enough to expect this is the end.
Surely when I try again my symptoms will join in too.
They only started to improve
The more I tried to rest.
Yes, eventually - After a lot of effort I got here,
But you have no idea how I tried.
How I limited my actions,
So in a month maybe it won't be so hard.
Now I'm here, I'm worried my efforts will send me back.
Wasted.
Don't make me go,
I don't want to be useless anymore,
I'm still bad but so much better,
Please don't
Stop me,
Hurt me,
Trip me,
Trap me,
Lose me to my own body.
Not anymore.
I'm still here
Fighting.
Next page