Chronically Tired

When I say I’m tired of being sick

I’m talking about more then headaches

And the slipping of my joints.

The appointments with judgmental doctors…

Normal tests and the same labs as always,

But gotta run them again, just to check…

Fatigue so deep that it seeps down,

Down into the bones and settles into the marrow…

Staring out the window and knowing that outdoors isn’t for you;

After all, there’s pollen and sunshine waiting to attack

Standing in a group of people but still all alone,

Just wishing there was someone to relate to.

Just tired of this prison of flesh

Feeling that I’ve had my turn

Pretty sure I’ve paid everything I owed.

Yet, here I am again:

Donning the special gown

And waiting for my medical date

In another hospital.


I am not the person you see
as I am living here behind my mask.
You have taught me
that be who I am isn’t safe.
You taught me this with your words,
with the way you’ve shunned me.
You taught me this when you laughed
and made fun of me for being different.
The teacher lied to me,
when she said that words could never hurt me.
Sticks and stones break my bones
and the words cut something deeper.
When you told me, I wasn’t good enough, I believed you.
When you told me, I was lazy, I believed you.
These words you gave me,
became part of who I am.
What is said, is done.
You can never take them back.
And now I live here, behind my mask.


This thing, that you call me,
doesn’t change who I am,
yet it defines me,
This name, this diagnosis,
that you gave me.
The name didn’t make me this way,
yet it shapes everything around me.
The stigma for this label,
marking every social interaction
and limiting the choices I can make.


Broken, scattered pieces

Laying strewn across the floor

Something missing and lost forever

I cannot no longer see my future

Or the person I was becoming

Now, I’m undone and something else

I am this diagnosis

This label that owns me

Stealing everything I imagined I’d become

And rewriting me without my consent

As my body cracks and crumbles

My hope turns to dust

Leaving me here to stare at my mortality in the mirror


It could be worse

But I wish it was something better

Burning pain

Branding me, scarring me, breaking me

In all the places you cannot see

I walk through the crowd

A spector of suffering unrecognized

Looking the same as those around me

And I wonder if they feel the same

Bitter, iron bars caging around me

Biting down into my bones

Seeping into the fundamental programming

Forever altering who I am

I clutch upon the thing with feathers

That perches precariously in my soul

I wish I could hear it sing

Letting the little bird go

I watch it fly away, fly away

And with a fragile voice

Begin to sing


Be like the tree.
Set your feet firmly upon the ground
so that you might have a solid foundation to build yourself.
Reach your arms up to the sky
so that you may be inspired by the sun.
Drink of the inner waters and of the sunlight
so that you may know joy.
Feel the winds of the world around you
so that you might free you soul.
And like the tree,
know the eternal satisfaction
in the simple state of being within the now.