A bottle of pills
Shaking like a maraca
My medication alarm
Waking me up
Another day
Waiting to die
Another day
With the weight of my diagnosis
Weighing me down
Like a pachyderm on my shoulders
Weighing me down
Like a suit of lead
Then my daughter appears
Lighting the room
Lightening my load
Temporarily
A dichotomy, In fact
My diagnosis
It is not mine alone
Not contagious
But like an octopus
Ensnaring those closest to me
All within its grasp
Those which keep me going
Giving me the strength to fight
They are the casualties of this war
The end
Freedom for me
The end
Culminating in a river of tears
And I can only hope
To help prepare them
Not to drown
*I wrote this poem upon waking to my medication alarm this morning that sounds like a bottle of pills shaking. My first thought - another day, waiting to die. Sentenced to death by ALS.