I remember the days of not being held
When I was free to do as I pleased
Not stuck here inside, alone in the dark
Feeling like I’m being held and squeezed.
But the bars that hold me imprisoned
Are bars that no one can see
The bars that hold me imprisoned
Are in fact my body, it’s me!
Some days it’s the body that stops me
Won’t let me go far at all
Pain in the joints, wobbly legs, weak limbs
I fear I will topple and fall.
Other days it’s the mind that haunts me
My words just stumble and fail
I lose my way in brain fog
Every thought is a whisper, so frail.
So I retreat inside to my writing
I retreat inside to my book
My character, she is restless
She asks you to come and look.
At how she confronts villains
And overcomes many fears
She is asking me to hurry
And please not to cry many tears!
So yes, real life is painful
And yes, my mind is a bog
But my family and book, they help me
So I WILL make it through the fog.