Multiple Sclerosis, what is that you say?
Multiple Sclerosis, what does it do you ask?
Read deeper into my poem as I take off my mask;
I was sixteen when I was diagnosed, not too sure if I could get close
I didn’t exactly know what it did, but I sure do feel what is does.
The pains, the tears, how it made me fear,
what would happen next, throughout these eight years.
It never sent a warning I just learned when I woke up each morning.
I say this is Hell in a different way. Times get better eventually,
or so they say. Remission is what they call it.
Although some days I’m out of it, I will not quit!
I sit silently watching as every day goes by,
telling myself this is enough, I have to get up and try!
To everyone around me I’m fine, when in reality,
my pain level is about a nine. I’m so close to crying but,
I promise I’m not done trying. This MS will not control me.
These meds don’t work, you see! They have me sick and crazy,
but, this disease, will not have me!
Trying to keep my aches at bay, sometimes it feels better,
to just walk away. I stumble. I mumble. The words I say may
fail me, but I’m in control, calling a fumble it’s time for,
another play! Going crazy with all these thoughts,
like I’m spiraling into a pit, No! Stop, I will not quit!
What is Multiple Sclerosis you say? It’s a disease I will
beat one day! What does it do you ask?
It was something I was given because I could overcome these tasks