Sometimes I think am dead
with each day the same
as the last.
The thought crosses my mind,
would I even know?
Then the pain starts to flare
and I know for sure
I am still here
because death wouldn’t hurt
this bad,
would it?

© Autumn Siders 2018


The pain doesn’t ease
it just slips my mind,
numbed by distraction
that I so desperately find.

Each morning starts
a little worse than the last
and each night ends
just out of my grasp.

The strength that I need
just to get through the day
seems weaker each moment
as I keep the pain at bay.

No drink nor drug
will ever help subdue
the ache in my bones
created by you.

© Autumn Siders 2017