Treasure Island

Freewill Amon

(18th Sept 1987)

How It Has Been

My hip aches like I've been hurt by a bullet
Sometimes it quakes, even after having a meal run down my gullet
I feel so helpless and alone
When will I reach the end of the road?

My head gets so heavy like a ton
And my neck so fatigued like a clouded sun
My fingers too weak to hold a pen
And I keep struggling, fighting to see the end.

Day-in day-out, my joints never stop talking
When I try to make them stop, they start shouting
I've tried to ignore them, but they just got boisterous
And if you provoke me right now, I might become very furious.

I see things I can take, but I can't take them
I feel things I can shake off, but I have no strength
I yell in pain, but I don't shed tears
Only a few believe I'm sick, but many think I'm weird.

My legs are too feeble to carry me
And my steps and gestures are controlled by pains and fatigue
Some people look at me and say, 'I dig your style'
But they never know they see nothing but lies.

I am me, but I am not complete
I am a slave, but I look like I'm free
Chronic pains and sudden forgetfulness upgrade my life of misery
My believe and unseen result, make me an object o mockery.

Submitted: Monday, January 28, 2013
Edited: Thursday, February 14, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This is about how I've been surviving with CFS.

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