You'Re the Pretender, Not Me

Ticking clock seems to progress too slow
All the while my disorders take control of everything I see
Everyone watches, examines my actions, as if they know 
When told otherwise, they blame and point fingers at me.

It hurts, when they are the closest people I have around
It hurts, when they dont listen to my pleas 
It hurts, when told I'm faking, forcing me further down
And God it hurts, when those very people who stay, leave.

My arm has taken alot of physical damage
My legs have recieved alot of the same
Scars are not hidden from my bodily image
Adding more scars could ruin my name.

Go ahead and tell me I'm faking again
Sit there on your throne up high, judging all you see
And as my soul crumbles to ash in the end,
I want you to watch it, and realize you're the pretender, not me
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace