Lilyann Monahan (2-10-68 / Miami)
My eyes won't open,
my mouth won't move,
my head feels heavy,
when will this improve?
I've lost count of the pills,
I think it's thirteen,
the Doctor added a new one,
its benefits are unseen.
Give it more time,
they constantly say,
I'm sick just hearing it heard.
If they only felt like me for a minute,
they would find this all absurd.
My mother is angry,
that I don't feel well,
she has to clean alone.
then I feel guilt knock at my door,
it cuts me to the bone.
We all have something wrong with us,
I guess I just have to fight,
and hope a rainbow is coming my way,
and pray with all my might.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.