27 February 2014

There is a special kind of guilt,
When all I think about is ‘me’,
This is not who I am,
Nor who I want to be.

God first, then others… and last myself
Is the way I’d like to think.
But RA’s pain shouts loudest,
It’s always about ‘ME ME ME’.

With just a little sleep or pain relief
This voice inside might quiet.
Apparently, today is not the day
For the sweet, sweet sound of silence.

When children are quiet,
Trouble is found.
If my brain was silent,
Without a sound…

Well, that hasn’t happened
Since this disease came around.
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