Some Days Are Harder Than Others
Permeated by pain,
I find little relief.
This day has been stain’d,
With a whole lot of grief.
I cry as I get out of bed,
But the tears do not work,
They just hurt my head,
And make it oh, so much worse.
The pain makes it harder still,
For me to paint on a mask,
But because I don’t look ill.
I fear, labelled a liar, I’ll be taken to task.
But that’s the lot of the invisibly ill.
Yet, what happens when it becomes too much?
That’s just the cost, that’s just the bill.
For us warriors to bear, pain’s agony touch.