Ecclesiastes And Death [revised] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Ecclesiastes says all is vain. While life per se is wonderful
living with pain isn’t, nor is living with chronic headache;
hiding distress creates an empty life in claiming to feel
fine while allergenic symptoms sap all strength. I finally
admit failure of new diet plans, admit crushing defeat

The regime sentences me to alienations darkest despair,
food intolerance creates pervasive partitioning between
life and I, reinforcing separation, hostile as I fall behind,
can’t complete tasks, total confusion, hearing nothing
and looking at the world with failing eyes

Confessing to growing despair; seeking your help is the
only solution to become healthy again – I’m feeling an
ignorant, functionally disabled lone alien who is world
estranged because of paralysis by throbbing pain –
it isn’t working, don't want to become ‘L’Etrangère’

Nor to experience Sartre, Thomas Mann and Aischinger
again; help me return to food that restored me before,
escape from chronic pain making life so miserable that
I only contemplate Ecclesiastes, vanity and death…