This is one of my poems that I wrote several years ago. It is describing what it is like to live with cronic pain.
Staring at the walls, time my constant companion.
Sleep, as elusive as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and like that pot of gold, never to be found.
Pain lancing my body, also my constant companion.
Something to be endured, making me a better person; molding me into who I will become.
Some say your past shaped your future.
Perhaps, but I say the now is what counts the most, what makes you who you are.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment