Arthritis

My body is decaying.

Once beginning

as a torn muscle,
has now grown

into my forever burden.

Nerves are disturbed.

Muscles are weakened.

Bones are sore.

Stabbing  pains travel

up my spine

down my legs

through my core.

Feelings of acid

pouring on my wounds.

Two tablets,

four hours at a time

disguises my pain.

Heat,

ice,

rest,

repeat.

Tuesday comes,

as does my miracle worker.

Lay on bed,

calming music plays,

lights dim.

Familiar hands push

on my broken body.

For days after,

it seems to get better.

Ha!

This is just a lie.

From my body to my head,

"I am here always.

Forever will I be

a part of you."

I don't understand.

How can this be?

I am only eighteen.

This poem is about: 
Me

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