He throws himself
On unsuspecting things,
And launches himself,
An unwanted lifelong friend.
Uninvited,
He endeavours to fill,
My every waking moment.
Why does he persist,
With such torment?
His never-ending dribble,
Disrupts my peaceful pattern,
And creates a grotesque shadow.
He laughs,
At my discomfort, my agony,
And carries on.
No amount of remedy or research,
Can give me back,
What he has taken.
...when someone tells you that they have fibromyalgia, don't assume that they want sympathy (they don't), or that they just want to collect money from the government (there is no worse stereotype), not to mention that it is not enough for anyone to live on... when they tell you that they are not up to a special occasion or that they don't have the stamina for a crowd of people... believe them. The constant pain and ache takes all of their energy; it takes all of their strength just to get by, day by day... I know because I live this reality every day, every hour, every minute, and it is just what I described in my poetry. It is hell. So please don't dismiss it as someone's conjured up idea or a reason to "get out of" doing things, or working, ... no one "wants" to live like this. Not one.
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