The Invisible Battle
My throat is dry. I’m trying not to cry. I’m just sick. Today I choose not to die. Lying in bed for the millionth time. Straining my brain Trying to remember who I was. Am I still me? I don’t feel the same. Once upon a time I was strong. I was beautiful. I had long thick hair. I was free. Now I am a slave to something I can’t touch I can’t even see. If I could I would walk outside. I’d lift my weary head. I would look at the sky. If I had enough breath in my body I would scream WHY? Most days I feel off pace. Other days I feel I am staring death in the face. Only a blessed few believe me without a visual aid. But that’s ok I lived another day. Battling an invisible illness is an endless sea. The waves force you to your knees. I want to go for a walk. Or sit up for hours for a long awaited talk. How will I choose what will exhaust me today? But I’m still breathing today So I can’t really complain. I’m just sick and tired of being sick and tired. Will this battle never end?