The Days Where I Couldn't Walk
I shouldn't find comfort
Lying on this white bed,
With its brick pillows,
And wires attached to my body.
Alas, my knees were riddled with pain,
Along with my ankles and wrists.
Not to mention my butterfly rash
Contorted my face with no mercy.
Taking five steps out of my bed
Never had been so miserable
And petrifying than any other
Moment of my life.
However, I must take five,
ten, twenty, forty, eighty,
And even more steps
Towards my uncertain future
Outside of that hospital door.
This poem is about:
Me