Poetry Month, Day 7: Fibromyalgia


When I awaken, I am tired
I push myself through the day
As through cold molasses,
Continuing tired
Dragging leaden bones and an occasionally weary spirit
There are aches and pains
There is fog in my head
There is a sense of futility
But I know I will rebound.
Let me get to bedtime
And rise again,
Weary tomorrow.

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

Naptime is anytime.

Naptime is anytime.


One thought on “Poetry Month, Day 7: Fibromyalgia

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