Warm covers, cold morn,
Yet, I am so torn,
I want to leap out of bed,
But something in my brain is dead.
I want to go outside and play,
My option is inside to stay.
I want to run and jump and fly,
But so many days I just cry.
I want the freedom of my youth,
But I must confront the truth.
My strength and agility trapped inside,
I am left with only my pride.
I want to be me, who I used to be.
Now, only this other person you see.
I look at others and wish to be them,
I too want to shine like a brilliant gem.
This person who mourns for who she was before,
If just something, someone to implore.
Doesn’t like who she has become,
Now literally walks to beat of a different drum.
Doesn’t like how she walks.
Now tires of subject of her talks.
Doesn’t like how she feels, how she looks,
Now spending more time reading her books.
She always wonders what lies ahead,
Many questions, no answers she’s read.
Where will life’s path head?
Anticipate with joy or dread.
What will life’s path portend?
She continues to pretend,
Things aren’t that bad,
Yet, why is she so sad?
Look in her eyes,
You see she cries.
She hides, she hides,
Overcome by the tides.
What to do, how to be?
Just wanted to be me,
Can’t you see?
See me, not my PD!
Lynn Martin McHale Feb. 2013 Copyright All Rights Reserved