Routine
It starts with a thunderclap
that ripples, head to toe,
lightening travels down the spine
and your body starts to slow.
You know the symptoms well,
how it pulses, loud and sour,
and once the swelling starts
it’ll spread within the hour.
You dull the ache with pills,
but the stiffness seems to linger,
until you cannot bend a leg
or straighten out a finger.
You lay upon your bed,
out of breath, a broken heart,
to mourn yet another day
you didn’t get to start.
‘Must be nice,’ they say,
‘to spend the whole day sleeping,’
little do they know
I’ve spent the past week weeping.
Life’s a precious thing,
and I treasure it so dearly,
I only wish my time on Earth
didn’t hurt so severely
Thank you for reading.
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