You run down the street. I wonder how…
because my feet move so slowly now.
Illness stripping so much from me.
Life as I never intended.
When you look at me what do you see?
Do you understand my dreams so upended?
More likely you see a lay-a-bed
doing nothing useful or eventful
because the words to me you said
were so hurtful and judgmental.
Even if illness never traveled your life,
doesn’t mean you shouldn’t discern
the incredible pain and strife
that through my life has burned.