Thank you to the lady that let me share her poetry.
The invisible illness
I am a prisoner of my own body,
Chained and a life proclaimed by pain.
I am in a state of constant war,
There are deep scars.
There is no colour sharp enough to reflect my pain,
There is no colour to paint the mental chains.
Well I am okay except,
I am always tired by the constant pain.
Well I am doing fine except,
The numbness leaves me raw and drained.
I want to scream out loud,
I want to hide and never come out.
I have invisible illnesses,
That are slowly taking up my life.
I feel old and withered,
I feel shackled by the constant thoughts.
I feel sad and depressed
To the life I have lost.
This pain has rocked my world
It brought the earthquake that turned me into ruins.
I feel alienated and dependent,
I sometimes envy those healthy and tanned.
I know that it may won’t go away and I might not be healed,
My potential may remain concealed.
It’s hard to be happy and cheerful,
With the daily battle to fight.
There is no good In the pain,
May be life is not for everyone.
I am becoming the invisible one,
My identity has become pain and Shame.
Still I stand tall and try out my full potential,
I am the Amazonian one with the mighty sword.
I still have the seed of hope,
To reclaim the thing called life.