Diseased

I have this thing.

This aching, painful, draining thing.

It brings me agony. Physical agony.

I have nothing to help. Pain meds, yes. BUT nothing else.

I don’t want the medicine, I want it to go away.

I want to do sports, I want to run, I want to sleep comfortably.

I end up crying more than half the time.

I bend one way and get my joints stuck.

Why am I alone in this battle?

I need an archer to shoot my genes, my immune system, my mind.

I need a cannon. I need it to shoot through my back and explode into little pieces to grip my my spine and stretch it out.

I need a swordsman. I need them to slice me in half. I want my back fixed. For good.

I need sorceress. I need her to heal my wounds. I need my heart and mind to be at peace.