The moments tick by
So slowly
Yet time is still running out
Days slowly drip by
And in the centre
I sit
Or lie
Unable to function
Unable to express
The many gifts and talents
That God has given me
They are eroded away
By deadly silence
And complete functional inability
Till I  become
Someone who once was
Someone who once did
Someone who once lived
Someone I no longer recognise
For I am tossed this way and that
By every passing noise
And discarded on a heap of empty moments
That should have been
Multi-coloured and full of sound
And beauty.



Popular posts from this blog

Linda's response to the BMJ

The psychiatric abuse of Children with ME

We Remember: A poem for 8th August, Severe ME Understanding and Remembrance Day