Chronic

You know the feeling.

You've felt it so many times before.

The pain is part of your being

leaving you beaten, bruised and sore.

Purple and blue

on the outside.

Flaming red on the inside.

Your body bonds with the vibe

of the pain that you so

desperately want to deny.

But you go with it.

Braces and athletic tape.

Ice and heat.

Doing what you can,

though emotionally,

you've already accepted

defeat.

Maybe a doc could help?

They went to school for this right?

To help those of us with

the cards that we've been dealt.

So that maybe we can finally

be able to sleep at night.

But one doc visit

turns to many.

They do their tests.

Shove pills down your throat.

Then explain what you already know.

You've had these tests.

Swallowed these pills.

We've been on this boat...

Forever it seems.

They send your prescription.

As they shoo you out the door.

You go home.

Tired of temporary fixes.

Collapsing on the floor.

Now the tears fall.

Because you're tired.

Chronic pain is

killing you with her claws.

Bleeding you from the inside out.

Curl up into yourself

as the chronic hits you again.

Clutching and clinging to any

form of hope you have left.

A text brings you out of your head.

Glancing at the screen,

you see an age old question.

"How's your (blah blah blah)?"

You sigh.

Same as yesterday.

Same as tomorrow.

Send.