Wrecked, Wretched, Wrenched, Writhing


I feel the wrecked remnants of my physical conditions

Arthritis means my knees sound like rusty hinges

Fibromyalgia means pain is never absent for me

A brain tumour plays havoc on my hormones


I am the wretched waste of my mental illnesses

I have an eating disorder that demands service

I walk in the shadow of my trauma, haunting me

Anxiety is like a sliver under my skin, prodding me


I was wrenched out of a false life by reality

The shattered pieces of a beloved career

No sense of purpose in every breath

The pain of failing in every aspect


I am writhing in the claws of disappointment

Tortured in long moments of thinking what if?

What if I had never walked away but persevered

Isn’t a fake life being better than none at all?


I am not feeling as wretched as this poem implies – just a bad day and my mind records it in a poem lol.

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