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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.

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