Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sometimes
I burn a little inside,
The pain
It strikes me, dives right into my core
I smile a little shakily
Talk a little less
So that others don't fear my sadness, offer sympathy on a platter

Sometimes
I need 8 coffee's
Just to start my day
I can't get up with a spring in my step or just pass the time away
My shoulders are tight
My limbs are heavy
I just want to get on with my day

Sometimes
I try with all my might
Still fragile
With a flicker of hope to make it through today
Shannon Perry Feb 26
Like a wolf chasing and attacking its prey,
my body has turned on me and I’m fading away.
Breathing is harder and my body is on fire,
will this pain and torment never tire?
Lisa Conway Feb 23
The blue colour of shame
Is a reaction to the child
Of solitude and pain
The melancholic flood
Is a cloud of loneliness
Increasing my call for love

You became my friend
Taking away that helplessness
That made me so lonely
Taking away the pain
And restoring my life

Freeing my soul
Allowing it to fly
Shaping my world
With courage and strength
Helping me to carry on.


© L Conway 2020
Lisa Conway Feb 21
I sit and wonder why?
I'm sat here and wondering.
Why am I wondering why
I'm sat here at all?
I'm looking for clarity
To define it all
To give me an answer to
A question
I never knew I asked

So where is the answer
To my question
At the bottom
Of my coffee cup?
Or At the end
of my garden?
I'll never find an answer
As I never knew the question

Then my mind becomes
Clear and finally
finds the clarity
It needed
To sit and wonder
Why I was wondering why
I was sat here wondering
At all

© L Conway 2020
Lisa Conway Feb 20
The pain in my body makes me cry
The shame of my soul makes me scared
But we endure and tolerate much
Although my anger makes me helpless
And causes me to be lonely, imagine my horror
At others sadness so that I just want to help
Through laughter and hope
Instead of misery and hurt

© L conway 2020
Peter Hark Jan 7
Oh wow lookie there!
What a marvelous creature

If you look closely over there you'll be able to see it
a wild hidden disability!

Usually they are invisible to the untrained eye
But I, Stene Irwiv will show you how you can sometimes spot them!

Now all of them look different, but here are a few examples.

See that buddy over there? I've been watching over this lad for a while now
Notice how he walks slowly almost like a waddle?
He also stops to rest more often than the usual guy
He's not lazy! just sore.
Make sure to be careful and don't touch him unexpectedly!
See my friend here has Fibromyalgia, it causes widespread chronic pain.
It can also cause migraines, mood swings, and memory issues
but remember, since these symptoms are usually invisible on the surface
this disability is often overlooked or even called fake by strangers,
but also doctors! ******!

This next one is a doozy
my mate right here looks pretty average on first glance,
but if you look closer you might be able to spot what makes her so special.
This lovely lady right here has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.
Because of the defect in her collagen,
her skin and ligaments are unusually stretchy.
if you were to touch her skin you might feel that it is very soft and fragile
and when she stands you might see her knees and other joints bend back farther that usual.
She's not just 'double jointed' though,
because of the stretchy ligaments, she and others with EDS are at risk of joint dislocations and chronic pain everyday!
EDS doesn't just cause pain though,
it can also increases a person's risk of ***** rupture or heart problems!
Double ******!

Remember though, these disabilities can't always be seen
so don't judge people prematurely.
You see, the person you think is lazy for sitting in the handicapped seats on the bus,
or maybe the person parked in a handicapped spot who appears to be fine,
or even just the people walking down the street,
any one of them might have an invisible disability.
but just because they are invisible, that doesn't mean they aren't real.
I hope you all enjoyed the show.
I'm Stene Irwiv, and this has been Chronic Illness Hunter.
When I park in a disabled spot or go out in public wearing my braces, I feel like people look at me as if I'm a strange exotic creature. My lovely inspiration for this poem came from when I was watching old Steve Irwin documentaries while I was stuck in bed on a bad flare day.
Alaina Moore Jan 2019
Eye lashes brase my brow with a flash of awareness.
Of gravity, of heart rate, with fading memories of mental images and sinking in reality.  
Argument insues among the self
"why do I have to get up?"
"I don't know the ******* answer, just get up."
It goes on repeat.
Get up, get up, get up.
Frozen in the warm sheets and safe feeling that just barely lets the pressure fade.
"Why can't I stay in the twilight of REM and awake where my body is light doesn't hurt and my mind has solace?"
"I don't know, just get up."
Get up, get up, get up.
This feeling has lost me GPA points
and this feeling has cost me jobs.
Place my hands on my chest and streach out my legs.
Rip away from the fetal position and complement myself relentlessly.
Get up, get up, get up.
"You're okay" I wisper as though the echo will ensure it's truth.  
Deep breathing to irratic breathing to controled breathing.
Rise, wash, repeat.
Get up, get up, GET UP.
Rip the sheets off like a bandaid and immediately stand.
Run to the warm shower.
Pretend it's rain and back to deep breathing.
Complement what a great job I'm doing, getting out of bed, not even crying.
How proud I should be I'm taking care of myself - by taking a shower.
A basic Target pattern, fortress of solitude.
Consumed in the hot artificial rain drops I find another fleeting moment of solace.
Deep breathing, "you're okay."
Let the water run over my shoulders until it turns cold.
Dry off in the shower, take advantage of the ignored greenhouse gas - bask in the humidity.
Look into my dark eyes in the mirror, and ask questions. And hope they are good that day.
Annelise Camille Oct 2018
My hands are shaking
My heart is racing
My feet are pacing
They think I'm faking

My bones turn to stone
It's all I've ever known
My muscles atrophy
Pain got the best of me

It's invisible and deceitful
Failures made me cynical
Solutions are only temporary
This body of mine is the enemy

Inflammation spreads like wildfire
I'm tired of being so tired
Nothing stops the torture, but
I'm fighting like a soldier

My body rebels
It is a prison cell
Trapped in my own hell
Gunshots fire inside
I really have tried
1/24/18
Annelise Camille Jul 2017
I feel as if my head is sliding off my neck like ice cream melting down the cone. I am a witch melting, shrinking smaller as my spine stacks horizontally like shiplap. My body has been refurbished into a pinball machine. Something so tiny as a silver ball destroys so much. It bullets through my body, shooting off like Cuban missiles. I feel the turmoil and chaos seeping through the gutters of this old home of bones. It's like spilled oil sludging through my blood vessels or rats scattering through a sewer, nibbling and feasting away on these muscles of mine until they are frayed like gnawed-on cable wires. At odd hours of the night when time is propelled by the safe travels of breath (that weave in and out like Victorians at a ball) from sleepy children who have yet been touched by monsters or nymphs, whereas each of my breaths steer Odysseus's weather-beaten boat through ten years of treachery. My heavy, melting head slowly sloping like clay off a bust makes its home on my dingy pillow as I lay on a prison bed with cold shackles around my ankles that make my bones shatter into a mosaic as if that could shrink my ankles so I can slip out. I feel like a chained hawk at these hours of the night when I just want to fly until I screech to a halt and flail over the cliff that waterfalls into the ends of the universe. I'd be reluctant at first, perhaps, but what other escape does one have other than to make an autopsist's Y-incision on one's body, then slip out like a hermit crab freeing himself from his heavy shell? Embarking onto a new dimension where there's hope for a radical swap of atoms that don't shape a crippled, deteriorating human is the only choice when you want to live a life other than what you were cursed with. May we then find peace and live as naked souls bearing no heavy shells.
Annelise Camille Sep 2018
Sometimes I believe my body is cursed
When I am burdened with all this pain
Wearing my disability like a bright, red stain
I think ahead to many years when it’ll be worse
When I can’t pick up a pen or unbutton my shirt
Or finish school or start a career
When more and more limitations start to appear
Sometimes I believe my body is cursed
Next page