Fingers trail along edge of sheet.
Another day in bed.
Hard not to feel defeat
when illness taps your head.
You didn’t ask for this…
Didn’t want it for sure!
To spend your days in the whisper and hiss
of all the doubters you endure.
It’s in your head, they like to say,
all who think they know,
what it’s like day to day
to live in this body you own.
What does it matter to you, you wonder?
What difference could it make?
Why would they judge you, you ponder?
What’s shocking is their hate.
They demonstrate their own smallness.
Their tiny egos brazenly displayed.
All in an effort I guess
to have their own fears allayed.