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I feel as if I am trapped in this box,
Where everyone else has put me
But I know I don’t belong.

Suffocated - they make me feel it,
I can’t stand existing inside this bubble:
The walls are thick, there’s no way out,
It’s the home of the unfound,
Where they put people like me who they can’t make sense of,
Patients they can’t diagnose unless it’s with the term “functional.”
I know there are others,
But I feel so alone,
Isolated from being understood
By the only people who are able to help me.

They won’t help me,
I try to fight back, I try to scream
Either no one hears me, or they take it as a mark of insanity.

It’s hard to speak up,
When you know the process all too well,
You walk in, they repeat things that hurt you (psychosomatic), and then you walk out,
Though you don’t know how,
Because inside you’re torn down again,
Answers aren’t found and each time is worse,
You’re still struggling but they insist
That you’re as healthy as you’ve ever been,
So once again you’ve been missed,
By professionals trained to catch out illness.

Every time your reality trips you down again,
You repeat the words they told you:
“You’re fine,”
You tell yourself you can do it
-But not out of encouragement,
Instead of disdain, because when no one acknowledges you
Why should you not question yourself?
We are taught from a young age these are the people you should depend on and treat with respect,
So even when they toss you aside:
Remember to say “thank you” and walk out with a smile,
Seeing as they believe that you really are wasting their time.

This is what nightmares are made of,
Except when you’re both asleep and awake
It’s always still there.
It’s hard enough passing each day this way,
But without an ounce of recognition,
I wonder why I should even stay.

I don’t want to do this anymore,
But still I have to knock on doors,
Basically asking people to reject what I live,
Constantly trying to prove that I’m sick,
To countless people who don’t give a ****.
It’s already too much effort existing like this,
Yet I have to get out of my bed to prove it,
Even though each time they write an essay about me being fine,
Or maybe a few words because I’m such a waste of time.
I face what I fear everyday because my health’s at fault,
Yet they say it’s not really at all.
It’s been a year and they still have the audacity to tell me,
It’s because I’m not coping mentally.

Maybe I am a mess psychologically,
But I want you to know, it’s only because of them.
I would be stable, I’d be perfectly fine,
If they didn’t keep coming around telling me my efforts are wasted,
That I just can’t deal with my mind no matter how much I already put in,
So clearly I will just never be fixed.
It’s what they’ve told me though, it’s all of their responses and words,
That made me question my sanity,
That dredge up all of my anger for them,
Because not one bit of acknowledgement did they spread.

So here I lay,
Stuck in this box where no one can see me,
I can’t fix myself because - it wasn’t my state of mind that was broken.
I’ve been here for four-hundred-and-seventeen days,
Where I try to imagine a future where I’ll be safe,
But the trauma of looking for a diagnosis I know will stay,
Because they told me it was only caused my trauma in the first place,
But the only kind I’ve experienced
Is the kind they inflicted whilst I was already suffering.
Esther L Krenzin Apr 2019
My friends call me a *******
laughing all the while
they think it is amusing
because they do not know it
to be true

So I laugh along with them
"How did you know?"
inwardly hoping for them
to look closer
see clearer
past the veil of my own design

But
they
don't
so we carry on with this ruse
and even if the words were dusted
in sugar
it would still sting

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
I know that I am broken. I know I have the soul and the body of a old lady. But please treat me as you do your own.
Caitlin Apr 2019
With a sigh of relief
the numbness is back.
I wake up in the morning
waiting for when I can take my medicine
and go back to sleep.
I'm not abusing it.
I take it when I'm supposed to.
But sleep is my favorite past time
because nothing hurts when I sleep.
Casey Mar 2019
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 2019
Nerve damage is
A hell 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 2019
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
Breanna evans Feb 2019
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 2019
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 .
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"
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