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Chronic illness isn’t
Some beautiful
Girl sitting under a tree,
Book in hand.
It’s no romantic tragedy
Or heartfelt tear-jerker
Sitting on the floor of your bedroom
2 am
Trying not to cry because
You wanted to be in bed three hours ago
Your body didn’t.
Obsessively tracking every
Food and drink
Symptom and medication
Juggling four doctors and work
All at once
Trying not to *****
Struggling to stand
To exist
wrote this about my struggle with undiagnosed chronic illness.
Little ills
need little pills
to numb
the night and day.
Little pills
in colors -
blue, white, grey.
Little ills steal smiles
and give chills,
Little ills,
all in my head.
You are the sunshine that lingers in my room when I feel so dark and lonely. You peek through my curtains blinding me with idea that I can get out of bed and nestle in blooming flowers and sprouting trees. Spring is coming you whisper to me but my mind is foggy, filled with thoughts of losing my self and trying to find myself again. You are the bird that chirps outside my window reminding me of the new day and the sunshine you are soon to bring in. You were the light of my life until you left leaving me lonely with little bird song to be sung and little sunshine to be felt.
Love lost
How come every

Love song i hear
Reminds me
Of you

The fear
The essence
You hold

It's not beauty
It's disgusting
Im disgusting

You say I'm not
*** you know
It's ******* disgraceful

It's not tasteful
You inside me
But i take it

Whisper my name
Surround me
Scream in shame
Noones to blame
You're a demon
Crawling about
        My skin

Swim skin deep
Keep me warm
You hold me down

With a frown
I'll sing a song
To honor your name
           So lovely

Am i keeping you
Or do you keep me
I thought i was a fighter

In the mirror a cryer
To others a lighter
Within it's burning

Oh but of course
I see it now
You arent me

You're just the terror
And screeching
That rests within
        M  e
I lost myself today
So entirely
I don't think i can regain who ever she used to be
Charlie 6d
To my dearest demons,
How have you been?
It's been a while since we've seen each-other
Yet here you are again.

Those weekly sessions of talking and crying to get you to disappear
seems futile now
Those dark feelings, those intrusive thoughts
of pain, of death and destruction,
Here you are again.

The unwelcomed guest, the evil within
how do I vanquish you once and for all?
Why does nothing work?
Why are you back to taunt me once again?
I still see your deep blue eyes
Behind the glaze
Yet when they gaze
I sit in full amaze
Emotionless you stare
As if without a care

Like glowing torches
Your eyes burn through me
Is it me you're looking at
Or the me I used to be

I still see your deep blue eyes
Behind the glaze.
Sienna Luna Feb 7
It is not folly to be sick
bodies breaking down
stripping flesh from mind
separating the viruses and germs
from taking over
like a plague
devouring health
like a sick game
of wit.

But wit came and went
and determination stayed
like a whip breaking
into the earth
all pain vanished
the moment love came into the picture bringing a sense of sensitivity, sensibility, belonging, grace, peacefulness, and harmony. The balance of nature is to be mature not unlike like manure becoming compost for flowers.

Something like sickness
or suckness or swiftness
can only be surface material
marching forward
getting stronger every day
weakened by germs and viruses
weakened by wanting
weakened by longing
to become something greater and grander than ever imagined.

To be sick
is to surrender.

Is to lie in the wet dirt
called mud
and be covered by rain and leaves
becoming mulch for the trees.

Wet. Withered. Weak and surviving.

And once the sickness passes,
bodies grow sturdy
become thick roots
winding deeper into earth’s crust
the inner and outer layers
changing dust
into mud
into mulch
into compost
into sprouts
into plants
into gardens
into parks
there unto infinity
back into dust
and the beautiful cycle

all over again.

and the seasons come and go
and the sickness comes and goes
and the flowers and fruits and vegetables grow and grow
and grow and grow and grow

into someone to be proud of.
Cat Lynn Feb 4
No..I'm more than sick...
I'm Poisoned
Chris Feb 3
Why do we need PG?
It's an ******* reality.
What will a child see?
*** and violence on TV?
There's *** and violence plenty more,
In schools, in alleys behind the store.
So let your children know the ropes,
So that you don't raise a corpse.
Let your children see ******* and killing, because it's natural. And kids, go, ****, don't wait until marriage, married *** ***** ***.
Scarlett Feb 2
I collect ill-fitting prescriptions
suffering from a hollowed out heart
morse code thoughts drowned in encryption
doctors pull my nervous system apart

they can't find a cure so they try true loves kiss
they package him in an orange pill bottle
bite-sized pieces of pure chemical bliss
I take a handful of shortlived **** and gobble

these synthetic feelings stuff me momentarily
I can't digest them so they absorb me instead
blood boiling until I'm filled with transparency
first I'm empty, then I'm bursting, then I'm dead.
they say love is the cure, yet every time I dig for that feeling I just find myself in a deeper hole.
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