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By Ethan Hartle

My life has been brought to a halt

On behalf of a tiresome ailment.

Body and mind defend the assault

Though, I cannot help but fault

And wish that my condition was latent.

When describing myself I must now begin

With a myriad of dismal symptoms.

This description is said over again,

For awareness is low, to my chagrin

In spite of so many victims.

Close friends support with words and prayer

All of them grasping at a positive direction.

Looking from the outside in is not so rare

Since people find the need to compare;

I’m left alone with facts and my reflection.

My mind is more weary than it used to be

Though much about me is.

Exhaustion consumes beyond degree

My disease made me akin to an amputee.

My body feels foreign, like a prosthesis.

Every waking hour I’d rather be asleep

For my fatigue imparts much strain.

The weight of my intrinsic physique

Is much too great now that I’m weak.

Moving is a luxury I cannot obtain.

Alas, I’m here stuck in thought

Wondering about the inevitable.

Although my journey has been fraught

Now I think I have a shot

At being much more capable.

There are always things you wish to erase

No one experiences life without battles.

Soon I will have my saving grace,

I haven’t yet ascended life’s staircase,

I will break free from these shackles.