Welcome again everyone, to another poem in the Cramp Poem series. Thank you for visiting again.
Once again, this rhyming ditty is about the pain of mental and physical illness and being constantly questioned and misunderstood about it.
It’s not easy to trust others with your truth, and when they respond with something you aren’t expecting (especially if it’s negative) the impact can be pretty terrible.
Here are my thoughts in rhyming form.
**********
Belief
How do I describe my pain
to someone with no feeling?
The ache within spreads to my skin
and you provide no healing.
Some days I itch myself to sleep,
my sore skin, somehow, soothing.
I scratch until it burns and bleeds
a form of self abusing.
My joyful shower, Sunday delight,
my only self love time.
Five minutes in the rust appears,
and sockets start to grind.
A cup of tea, a quick refresh
I need to boil a kettle.
But there’s no rest, my hips grind hard
and they take hours to settle.
My resting place, a plush soft bed,
where pain can drift away,
but many years of stiff living
means gripes will never stray.
So closing eyes should grant a break.
The Sandman is now calling.
But bedtime is a dead idea.
To slumber I’m not falling.
I spend each day, so desperate for
a change to all that’s past.
But splinted wrists and solid hips
are all that seem to last.
My sanctuary is my room.
I’ve been here for two years.
Within my box, I isolate.
Adjusting to my fears.
Friends gave up and family died.
My phone is very eerie.
My loneliness is just a way
to see what’s wrong so clearly.
Then sadness crept into my sores.
Depression turned acute.
Listless, aching, tired, and done.
Life was placed on mute.
So ask yourself if you could live
With everything I do.
I wish I could exaggerate.
This shit show is my truth.
How do I describe my pain?
To someone with no feeling?
I write it down and hope one day
that someone starts believing.
**********
Thanks for reading 💜
Creative Steph 