I am defined by my chronic illness,
Don't panic, I know.
That's seen as being negative,
You assume I feel low.
But that's not the case,
Not always at least.
I've been shaped and altered,
By this absence of peace.
This is my life,
It's all that I know.
What am I up to?
This is all I can show.
I can't separate out,
This illness and me.
I don't feel a need to,
It's complex you see.
I will not be grateful,
For the limitations it sets.
The pain I endure,
Or the toll of its threats.
It's not the total sum,
Of who I could be.
But it's a defining feature,
Of my life to me.
That is allowed,
I make the choice.
Don't get to choose much,
But I still have a voice.
In what I keep hidden,
And what I do not.
This illness of mine,
It's part of the plot.
It's part of my story,
It leads the way.
Not all good or bad,
At the end of the day.
I am a person,
I will not forget.
But I am a sick person,
Are you uncomfortable yet?
