My bones are live wires
Little tendons of mischance
Connect them together
In swirls of quicksand.
The joints they are of iron
Held by my skin into trance.
The curves of my fingers
Out of line with the truth.
Aches in my extremities
Linking me to that world
Of endless endurance
That pushes me till I reach
The point I almost break.
And then I sleep and dream of pain,
To let it begin anew the next day.
And each step is torture
To my weary soul and feet.
Yet I still
Exist.
I exist because pain is just a
Weakness leaving my
Rheumatic body and I shall soon
Be free of all that dare
Make me feel
Helpless.
I refuse to be made weak.
Here's a little addition that might help explain the theme of this poem.
Spoiler
Normally, I'm a very quiet, restrained person. I don't like to complain, it's very unpleasant and I loath it. But sometimes I feel like everything I feel is building up inside and if I don't have an outlet I'll have an "episode". Those usually end with me crying because no one, not even my family, can understand how I feel when I'm in pain, and I hate crying just as much as I hate pain and complaining. So really it's just a big mess. Anyway, back to the footnote: I have polyarthritis, which is to say that I have arthritis in almost every joint of my body. This poem is me trying to explain how that feels and how I cope, and it's the most emotional I have ever been while writing anything. So...yeah. That's about it. If you don't understand, I would like to say congratulations. You live a fairly pain-free life, and I'm extremely jealous. So don't waste what you have, because I wish I was you.
