My Arthritis Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

If once more
I could move just as I please.
Some days are not so bad.
Some days I cry.
You know, I feel it
in my fingers, knees,
My body's breaking down.
I don't know why.
Just thinking of the past
makes me more ill.
A future life of pain
seems cruel and strange.
And yet there comes a time
when sitting still hurts more
than getting up
and facing change.
The past is gone.
I know it in my heart.
And yet I long for you
through out the day.
I have to face a life
with us apart.
This is the hardest thing
I'll ever say.
I must move on.
I need to set you free.
I have to ask you
not to talk to me.