I hate being ill
I am defined
By the disease
That invades
My body
And counted out
Way before I
Even take my
Last breath
I hate being ill
The fights have
Become one-sided
No one wants to
Pick a fight with
A sick person
And they certainly
Don’t want to be
The creep that
Wins one!
I hate being ill
Everything I say
Or do
Seems to scrutinized
By family, friends,
People I don’t
even know but
Who have an
Opinion on my life
Boasting a
“cure for what ails you”.
I hate being ill,
To admit
That I need help
Forced to speak aloud
The problems I blame
on Parkinson’s Disease,
Unable to do some of
The simplest things
I hate being ill
I swear that the shredded
Cheese packages are
Impossible to open
And the caps on
2 liter soda bottles
Are put on with
A pneumatic tool
And my sweater,
I just can’t seem
to stop putting it on
Upside down, inside out
And all buttoned up wrong.
I hate being ill
Being defined by
My disease
Accepting the
Fight
That life has
Started in my
Body
My mind
Cleaned and oiled
Daily
To protect the
Connections
From the rust
That corrodes
Halting any
Messages
Needing to
Get through.
Stopped short
A blank expression
Fills my face.
I hate being ill.
It fills me up
Stealing from me
The essence of
Who I am
Moments filled
With memories
Gone with another
Piece of me.
Forever lost.
I hate being ill.
Jupiterjane