Mon 28 Mar, 2011 02:40 pm
Have felt so sick for so long I decided to write a poem about it. I would imagine there are lots of folks who might identify...
Illness is another country;
The language is different,
And so are the natives.
You don’t know quite how you arrived,
And you don’t know the way home.
It seems endless, this land of illness;
The food is strange and the rules have changed,
And everyone you know seems once-removed.
They poke and prod, the rulers of this land,
They check your blood and palpitate your heart,
Looking for your passport back to where you were
Before illness carried you away.
more than you might think, mags.
hopeful springtime wishes to the both of you...