Tag: Poem
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losing priveledge
You are losing somethingThe extra you have isn’t yoursIt was unfair when was given to youDistributed unequally at birthAnd now it feels unfair to loose itLike you’re being stolen fromBut you are returning stolen goodsThe fair part is you sharingGiving up the extra you haveSo that everyone can have some.
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health I never had
I see health in othersAnd miss a life I can’t knowAn imagined experienceI grieve for what I never gotI morn the life I’m missingThe freedom I don’t haveSettling into a compromiseWith my imperfect bodyI’m frustrated by new symptomsTrapped in this tightening trapAs my body betrays meI adjust to the new normalBut I can’t live in griefSo I give myself space to feelLight a candle for my lossAnd then turn back to the life I have.
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I want a wife
Wish I could find a man to be my wifeWho’s totally devoted to my needsGives me endless free laborAsks for the bare minimum in returnA man focused on my desireTo be on display when I chooseWho’s aware I can replace himWith a younger, more eager versionIs happily barefoot in the kitchenMaking our house a homeSacrifices his own needsBecause my needs come firstAnd he would know his placeBecause I gave him my nameA wife is the reward I deserveMy prize and proof I won at life.
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cleave people from the herd
We’re your sickly and old
The ones that can’t keep upFalling behind in the raceThe ones you sacrificeYou see us as disposableOr you choose to be blindExcept you are setting yourself upFor a future of being culled, tooWhen you forget compassion and careYou ignore that we’re in your herdYou may choose to see usBut we can’t help but see you.
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a moderated life
I was a active kid and also sickly
I played rough and then later suffered
Never fit in school so I was a loner
But my family friends played with meI had a social group as a teenager
And I matched their social energy
I stated up all night and partied
And then crashed when I went homeIt was in my 30s that I saw the pattern
When I act like other people I pay
And the cost is tripple the fun
More days lost than fun gatheredI learned to live a moderate life
Chose stability in my symptoms
I grieved that life wasn’t like others
Gave up on a life I can’t have.
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not trying to blend
What if I am cringyA background playerThat everyone laughs atSelf aware that I don’t fit inBut also comfortable in myselfAnd that confidence shines throughBecause I don’t hate myselfI’d rather embrace my awkwardThan chase someone else’s idealAnd maybe some people mock meBut that tells me who they areIt doesn’t affect who I choose to be.
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not dying today
My symptoms aren’t acuteThey’re persistent and uncomfortableJust not urgent or life threateningI have treatements that workNot a cure but a way to manageAnd succesfull lifestyle changesThat make my symptoms lessBut you can’t call me healthyI live with symptoms everydayI’m surviving, not thrivingSome days are less painBut I can’t imagine pain freeI’m not well but I’m also not dying today.
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not a brave face
In a culture where tough is praised
And showing pain is weakThen I’m considered a whinerBecause sometimes I name itInstead of living in painful silenceI defy loneliness and issolationTake comfort from those around meBy bravely sharing my vulnerabilityAdmitting that living sometimes hurtsSpeaking up can’t remove painBut it can make it more bearable.
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not about you
My house is my comfortIt should fit my needsI keep it up to my standardsI don’t clean for guestsI live in my bodyMy asthetic is for meAnd clothe it as I pleaseI don’t dress for strangersMy behavior is my choiceMy choices may not work for youI have to live with my consequencesAnd I don’t require your approvalSometimes my actions effect youAnd that is when you get to careBut I still keep these boundariesMy life choices don’t disrespect you.
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decenter
Why do you center yourselfSpeaking for us but not to usGive me back my wordsDon’t talk about me or for meYour ignorance is quickly seenBut only by those in the knowYou try to gatekeep what I sayMake up words to avoid what I amMy learned experience rings trueEven when you suppress my story.
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living my truth
I’m not willing to lie anymoreThey like me hiding the real meIt allowed them to be comfortableBut it made me feel worseYou don’t want to hear about my dayBecause my day involves painYou don’t want to hear what I feelMy good attitude is back lit by painIf the real me was hatefulThen maybe I’d understandBut this is about social discomfortThis is about disturbing truthI’m outspoken but introvertedI’m employed and disabledI’m authentic with mental illnessI’m not looking to fit your mold.
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wife left in the hospital
In sickness and in health they sayBut it’s often a one sided promiseWe all agree boys run awayEager to escape emotional burdenBut men are no better at sticking it outWhen a woman needs supportMen feel they’re in the right to leaveIf a woman can’t serve her roleHusbands don’t stay to be caregiversIf a wife becomes a burdenChronic illness is a dealbreaker.
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skewed by suspicion
Why do you have expectationsOf how health should look or actYou don’t live in my symptomsHealth isn’t linear and we aren’t twinsWho taught you to doubt meTo question a wheelchair or caneEager to catch me in the actOf some malingering performanceWhy am I guilty until proven innocentYour view is skewed by suspicionOutright assuming I must be lyingMaking it up to gain attentionWho wants to living in this picturePutting on a long con for strangersGetting all this negative attentionLiving outside socially acceptableWhy do you think you are specialThat I’m makings it up for youThat you know the ultimate truthThat you know me better than me.
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Medicine exists for healthy people
Doctors goal is to get people healthySo when faced with chronic illnessA complicated patient they can’t fixOnce their diagnosis is completeAnd they’ve handed out treatmentEven if the symptoms are still presentThey wash their hands of usDoctors aren’t here for wholistic careFew are excited by a long term puzzleThe puzzle of confusing symptomsAnd rounds of inconclusive testsThey default to psychosomaticThey outsource the care of emotionThat is the role of a psychiatristDoctors want to conquer healthNot hear a frustrated patientWith never ending symptomsThey want to be the heroBut after multiple appointmentsIt’s easier to label malaiseThan admit their failure.
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not up or down
My morality isn’t vertical
You are not better than meAnd I am not better than youWe are both worthyAnd no one is undeservingNo onehad to tell me thisI was born knowing itMy ethics are horizontal.
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crazy cat lady
In a roundabout wayI traded my married lifeFor the title crazy cat ladyThe traditional roleWas sold as happinessBut didn’t give me securitySo understand, I don’t regretGiving up my faithless husbandAs marriage was no guaranteeI am more myselfThriving as a spinsterBecause I didn’t give up on me.
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only the old and sick die
A global pandemic comes
And the takeaway is eugenicsLong as the masses can surviveIt’s okay for the old and sick to dieThe public prefers simple comfortDon’t want to hear downer statisticsDon’t want a mask or a vaccineSure, you might get long covidYou might kill your family or friendsBut a party is worth the gambleMass spreader events are more fun.
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external judgement
Carrying around all that judgmentIt has to be a weighty burdenSo much to disapprove and disdainMust be a heavy arsenal to bearI’m sorry the dagger in your eyesBounce off of my lack of caringHate leaking from your gazeWill never be able to touch meBecause I’m not invested in youThe same as you’re effected by me.
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quiet quit is my baseline
The way they exploit you
Is the reason they won’t hire meWhen you work all those unpaid hoursWhen you give above and beyondI can’t live up to that expectationYou hustle to get a possible raiseI’m struggling to give what’s requiredYou network with all the right peopleI stand out because of my limitationsExploitation isn’t fair to either of usOur worth isn’t in dollars and centsYou can quiet quit and still have a jobI’m lucky they’re not looking for causeI wish you would act your wage.
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approval after the fact
If you hear my story
And then you feel for meWhere was your compassionWhen you saw me as the villain?Why do I have to explainThat life is hard and traumaticFor you to try and understand meWhat does that say about you?If you think strange is awfulAnd difference is unacceptableYou are always going to judge meYou will still want to change meIf I haven’t hurt youAnd I’m not out to harm youThen I’m not the one who’s wrongMy compassion isn’t conditional.
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burnt flavor
Idle lips seek my ears
An exchange of vicious banterCringe isn’t just in what you doIt’s also in what you splatterI avoid the burnt flavor you bringAs you season the world bitterI can seek a sweeter tasteAvoid the twisted taste you deliverYour art can be a saucy critiqueA smug feeling that you’re betterWhile I enjoy my grateful lifeWriten in a complimentary letter.
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resigned to pride
My frenemy, disabilityThis is my uninvited guestA squatter in my bodyMy long term companionIt can come at any timeAnd no one is safeYou may not know it’s thereAnd it’s rarely predictableNearly impossible to get rid ofEven making it behave is a struggleSo we adjust where we canAn suffer through the restYes I’ve come to accept itI’m even proud I love with itBut that doesn’t mean I like itOr that anyone else should want it.
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not the real you
I don’t know youBecause you don’t want me toYou hide away the real youBehind what others expectYour performance is perfectedThe person you think I wantYou were trained well to hideBut I can see your walls are upIt’s not for lack of my tryingShowing an active interestGrilling you like an interviewTrying to coax you outYou’re not evading my disdainIf you were to be real with meIt’d be no different than nowI definitely don’t like the fake you.
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discrete annoyance
My annoyance is not your business
These are my private thoughtsAnd thoughts can be unfairThey can be stupid and pointlessThey may have nothing to do with youThey can disappear in an instantYour annoyance is not my businessYou are allowed your feelingsYou deserve your privacyYou can decide which battles you fightOr choose to forgive my flawsYour silence is yours to keepDare I suggest for us bothFleeting frustration isn’t of valueIt might just be a passing sparkUntil that spark turns to flameUntil the flame is unavoidableIt might be better to let it go.
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no nice guys
Nice men aren’t real
Because nice is a performanceIt’s an act to make us comfortableFollowing the rules of a social scriptKind men play a different gameThey don’t hide behind politeThey can be blunt and directAs they deliver their compassionBecause kind isn’t a transactionKind isn’t always nice or easyIt can have boundaries and be akwardBut give me a kind man anydayI much prefer that over a nice guy.
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loose lady bits
My pussy is used and experiencedWhen it’s excited it’s slipperyIt understands pleasureMy twat isn’t young or virginalIt isn’t like unopened packageInexperience isn’t my gameLet me be clear, tight is painfulSo why is a woman’s displeasureThe ideal that men must aim?
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personal space
Imagine my skin is barbed wire
There are spikes on my shoulderCactus pins at the base of my backTreat me like I’m dangerous to touchLike you need expert toolsMy body isnt a public spaceIt’s not freely open to strangersThis is a private club, key requiredWait for permission to enterIf you refuse the rule of consentThen I want nothing to do with youGive me the chance to invite youAnd I’ll consider your application.
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noobs don't know
It’s tiring saying the same thing
Over and over and over againLeading others through their journeyWhen we already learned that lessonWe had to do it the hard wayWe had to do it without hand holdingWe resent making it easy for othersInviting means emotional laborIt requires patience and kindnessBut that is the way we pass it onOne conversation at a timeRepeating the same old mantraThat’s how we keep ourselves trueAnd how we change the world.
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we fight to fight
Put us in a room
Activists and advocatesA group of strong willed peopleOpinionated and passionateAnd expect a fightWe start out fighting the worldBut when the world won’t listenWe fight amongst ourselvesBecause warriors don’t waitWe will find a war to winEven if that war take us down.
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elusive and elite
Being an expert is exclusive
It means you know fancy wordsA language specific to your expertiseBut the culture of competitionMeans expertise is not invitingIt’s treated like a private clubIf you haven’t paid your duesProving your worth in wordsThen you are effectively shut outThe elite don’t want to guide youThey don’t want to make it easyKnowledge is secret and selectiveTaking the time to translate is tiringWhen experts wail about mass stupidityBemoaning request to dumb it downThey seem to forget the part they playedMaking their knowledge unaccessableWhen they used fancy words to smarten it up.
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jaded old lady
I don’t envy the young
Romance alive in their heartsFull of ideals and blind faithBelieving the lies we’re toldThe young don’t envy meJaded by years of experienceUnable to escape our human failingsSeeing through the lies we’re soldWe live on different sides of ageI don’t think humans can have bothThe naievete and hope of youthThe practical wisdom of being old.
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you are not me
we are us, as in more than onebut you is you, and I is Iwe are not I, and you is not Idon’t confuse you with meas I know me betterAnd you know you betterand we only know the littlethat you or I decide to sharebetween us.
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intrusive thoughts
Drowning in my own tea
A shallow pool to fall intoI brewed my own destructionBecause my face can’t swimI forgo the sugar and milkBrush aside a useless cupSpill a pool into the saucerAnd dive in with mouth wideA dramatic pause of held breathIt was a random thought, not intentAn uninvited image in my headInstead of an inhale, I suckSlurping up my internal dramaI know I can’t breath that leafy waterAnd I wouldn’t choose to chokeTip the saucer up to finish my drinkMy tea is done, the image goneNow back to acting normal.
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loud silence
The voice in my head is so loud
With so many things to sayThings I leave painfully unspokenWith every passing dayThe world doesn’t welcome my wordsWhen they contradict the normMy mouth stays tight and silentAs words spoken would lead to a stormAs I bind my words awayConvinced silence protects meAm I leaving others to sufferBy denying them our communityCowardice and self-preservationAre siblings of the same fameI don’t know what is truly rightBut I live quietly, all the same.
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trustworthiness
An elusive thing, trust
Sometimes fragile giftSometimes stuborn blindnessSometimes trained by suspicionSo easy to break and hard to repairWe expect it even when we destroy itIt comes with conditions and expectationWith all our internal failings and flawsIs it human to trust or even be trustworthy?
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style of kindness
As you stand in the distanceYour sight is offendedYou declare I am rudeYou simply do not approveYou know a better way to beBut I’ve only embarrassed myselfStanding seperate from the crowdBeing awkward or wierd or cringyWhether close or seperate from youThose things are mine to beWhy does it matter so muchOthers perceptions as they seeHow am I hurting the worldWhat am I inficting on youWhat does your derrise do for meMaybe I should have an opinion of youJudging other is a terrible accessoryYou should wear more compassionIf you want to truly be in styleFocus on you, instead of criticizing me.
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No replacing lived experience
An exercise in schoolThey put me in a blindfoldAn attempt to educateIt was like a backstage passI got to peek behind the curtainA brief glimpse into another lifeBut there was no length in my stayRemoving the blindfold returned my sightYears later I dated a blind manHe was into judo, I had chronic fatigueBoth disabled but in such different waysI had vision and he had energyWe told each other our storiesWe were close as partners can beBut I could only know what he told meHe couldn’t know what my insides feel likeNo words can replace lived experience.
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hot consent
Don’t pull my hair
And slap me with a silly grinThat’s called assault, not flirtingNo one is owed intimacyBodies aren’t land to be conqueredTouch without consent is an invasionBoys are only boysWhen no one calls them outWe all know the subtle cues of painGirls understand civil behaviorWhy are men allowed explosive emotionAs women suppress their tearsGuys don’t like these new rulesMaybe time for some castration lawsMaybe dicks can be public property, too.
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The lie of doctor patience
Doctors are taught that patients lie
So, they don’t believe what I tell themBecause I don’t fit into what they believeIf my experience contradicts their knowledgeThen they deem my experience wrongSo, I bend the truth to fit into their narrativeMuch like I hide my pain from the publicAnd I try not to overburden my loved onesI tell the doctor what they want to hearI minimize my story, focus on right nowNo muddy mention of my pastNo curiosity of my own conditionI hide my education and persistenceI let the doctor solve the mystery aloneSo they can win at the puzzle of me.
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Doctors make me cry
Anxious, I arrive at the appointmentI want to believe it will be differentMaybe they won’t dismiss meMaybe they’ll listen this timeAfterwards, I sit in the car and cryBecause they’re so predictableMedical school teaches them we lieInsurance decide how they can helpAnd I don’t fit their medical modelI’m a complicated caseWith too many ongoing symptomsSo I only go when it’s badWhen my symptoms are acuteBecause I need them to believe meBecause sick is my everydayBut my truth is never enoughIt doesn’t convince their authorityI walk away dissatisfiedTears crashing down from my eyes.
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I survived today
Some days life hurtsAnd today included painIn a terrible wave it hit meIt was awful and it overwhelmingI suffered with eyes closedA moment felt like foreverI thought it might never endBut then the wave passedAnd it still hurt, but less soI was grateful for the smaller painAnd eager for the end of todayBecause tommorow is a new dayBecause some days life doesn’t hurt.
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not my potential
It’s not our job to see potential in others
We are not tasked with improving themIf they didn’t ask to be mentoredOr request our guidance in changingIt’s not fair to mold them to our expectationTo try and change someone for our needsThe belief that manipulation can be goodThat we are doing what’s best for themThats stealing their chance to chooseAbusing throught lies and obfuscationThey deserve to make their own mistakesTo be autonomous in their decisionTo be a person that doesn’t serve our needsGrowth and evolution is a personal journeyOnly I can choose to change meAnd they should get the same oportunity.
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Speaking freely
I let my tongue wag loose
Free to say whatever it wantsI speak comfortably and confidentlyYou can be impressed by my esteemOr you can recognize my follySometimes I make a fool of myselfI mess up what I’m trying to sayI say things in a very wrong wayThat us the cost of a free tongueActions have consequencesAnd my tounge lives with regrets.
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cruel animal
Humans are born withCompassion and kindnessSo how do we lose themWhere do they goIs it a lack of nurtureOr the harsh lessons of lifeRemoving our nature of careTurning us into jaded adultsWe end up keeping pain alivePassing on perceived harmWe nurture the worst part of usWe can be such cruel animals.
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The body I have
I could envy a healthy body and sound mind
But I’d have to make up a storyA fiction of what it must be likeBecause I’ve never had those thingsI don’t want to pine away for the imaginedWhat is the value in such fantasySnake oil salesmen may claim otherwiseBut there’s no path to an easy cureThis is the body I was born to and live inI’ve spent a lifetime learning my limitationsI may be curious about another experienceTo be in a body that does what is expectedBut I refuse to live with envyI refuse to imagine myself into hate.
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unsolicited opinion
Your opinion is an uninvited guestI didn’t open the door for you to say anythingDon’t sneak it in as a complimentOr an underhanded attempt to shareActing like you’re all white picket fencesNext to my abandoned fixer upperI’m not looking to get your buy inMy life isn’t an open houseI’m not looking to buy your waresMy face is a no solicitors signSo, stop being a nosy neighborWe certainly don’t live on the same streetBecause I don’t barge into random housesI focus on my own life, I tend my own houseIf I want an opinion, if I’m looking for advice,Give me the chance to ask for it.
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identity first
Policing my language
When I speak of my identityIs simply unacceptableThe culture may decreeWhatever it wants about wordsBut I decree what is true for meYou may think you know betterBut I get to choose what I call myselfIf you can dare to listen to my wordsIf you decide to respect my choiceI might believe your trying to understandI might believe you care about I.
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Curiosity Denied
Curiosity liked to stroll the streets
Eager to know their neighborsOne days Curosity noticed a new housePrivacy was out mowing its lawnPrivacy saw earnest Curiosity in the distancePrivacy went inside and drew the curtainsCuriosity rushed to the unfamilar doorCuriosity turned the knob, but it was lockedCuriosity was used to strolling in, uninvitedBut Curiosity was also a bit of a flakeAnd once interest warned, Curiosity leftOther neighbors coped in their own waysIntimacy didn’t find Curiosity reliableOften annoyed by their inconsistancyCuriosity didn’t really respect BoundariesEven when Boundaries built a gateCuriosity just climbed right over itSo now Boundaries avoided CuriosityBut Privacy was new and interestingCuriosity called out, pounding at the doorPrivacy persistently didn’t answerCuriosity got louder, demanding to be let inNight rolled in and finally Curiosity leftIn the dark of night, Privacy stepped outsideBoundaries walked down the dim streetBoundaries stopped in eyesight of PrivacyBoundaries waited for Privacy to waveA bit later, Intimacy walked down the streetPrivacy looked for Boundaires blessingFeeling reassured, Privacy waved at IntimacyStanding outside, in companionable silence,They felt bad about excluding CuriosityBut not bad enough to invite Curiosity overSo the three new friends went insideAnd Privacy locked the door behind them.
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Doctors are the villian in my story
As a kid, I coughed until I threw up my dinnerScreamed from painful ear infectionsSpend school lunch in the nurses officeWet my pants heading for the toiletAs a preteen, they sent me to a psychiatristTo sort out my runny nose and coughThe psychiatrist told me to “do better”To stop making my mom’s life hardAs a teen, the truant officer came to the doorMom told me to go to school achyThe school wouldn’t take her notes anymoreWait until the nurses office sent me homeAs an adult, my boss told me to show upCoworkers got mad when I came to work sickDoctor wrote me a note with an end dateBut I was still sick when I returned to workI’m old now and Doctors blame my ageTo few symptoms and they ignore meTo many symptoms and they dismiss meIf I wait too long to visit they shame meWhat I’ve learned is that doctors make me cryI don’t expect to be healthy anytime soonBut I’m pretty good at surviving while illExpert level at hiding my sick.