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May 28, 2012
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There are consequences

to cheating Death

(as I have done).

He will tax you for

each day you live:

"A meager fee, for another

chance at Life!"

he promises;

yet over the years he

will bankrupt you.






Never among the living

he treats you as his waif;

mind numb with lethargy,

joints rotten with inflammation,

he sings your requiem

to remind you

of his Second Coming.

Half-dead, Humans blame

you for your condition

when all you wanted

was to be one of them,

just a little longer.

Well, I really wanted to submit something, but I have no pictures of my paintings at the moment and it's midnight up here. And everything I've drawn over the past couple months is still in the process of being colored on my computer.

So I started looking through my old poetry - I've actually got a fair bit, and some of it's not half bad - and I came across this. Sorry to post something so morbid, but man, I remember the day I wrote this like it was yesterday.

We'd just read Yeats' The Second Coming in my English class, and it was my senior year, if memory serves. Anyway, I'd been having happy-fun-times with my disease, and my mom was insisting that we wake up early one morning on a weekend and go skiing. I wanted nothing more than to rest, since I really wasn't feeling the best and didn't have an entire day to devote to skiing while still managing my classwork effectively. I told this to my mom, complaining quite a bit about how crummy I felt. And this isn't just stuffy-nose crummy; this was joint-pain-so-bad-I-had-to-keep-myself-from-crying-in-Anatomy-class kind of crummy.

But, if you've never experienced it, living with a person with an autoimmune disease gets tiring. I admit that my family probably got pretty tired of me, being half-alive and all most of the time. And after a while, the distinction between my disease and my self got blurred in their minds. It always stayed separate in mine; I was not the burden that weighed on my body. But it's harder to keep that separated when you are the family only dealing with that person's behaviors, which are often incomprehensible to a healthy person. And, over time, the family gets mad at the disease, and some of that anger gets directed at the person, who in their mind IS the disease.

It's understandable to me, but boy, does that hurt. So it was that I woke up at 6AM on a Saturday, feeling like hell warmed over, and just blurting this all out on the paper before I started packing for a day at the mountain.

Looking back on this is interesting, because I no longer have that disease, and my family can now see me as the person that I always saw myself as. There's no anger anymore, and I no longer feel like I made a trade with Death for every day I woke up alive.

Sorry for the dreadfully long description.

I guess this piece written in sheer anger just means a lot more to me now than I'd expected it ever might.
:iconlucas-irineu:
lucas-irineu Featured By Owner May 29, 2012  Student General Artist
This is the first and last poem (unless you write another one which is as great as this) that I have ever added to my favs on dA.

It's wonderfully, really, and so is the description.

I used to write poetry... but I doubt I will ever post any on dA. There must be some lying around on my blog though.



And I know how hard it is to be with someone who is sick with something that is not going to go away.

I also know that it is much harder to lose them than to take care of them. :c
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:iconloaym:
Loaym Featured By Owner May 28, 2012  Student General Artist
I admit with my brother it's sometimes kind of hard to tell what's related to the disease and what isn't. Because really, he's always been whiny, he's always overreacted to every little injury or stepping stone, and he's always made every excuse he possibly can, exaggerating things or outright lying about them. Heck, he'll run around with his friends all day and be perfectly fine; and then the second he's supposed to do something he doesn't want to do, like karate class or Cub Scouts, he feels just that terrible and refuses to go.

Anyway, this was an interesting read. In your case, I am with you completely. Honestly, you've never seemed "half-alive" to me at all, I honestly can't remember you being anything but cheerful and full of energy, and I'm sorry that you had to go through that D:

As for my brother, well... it almost made me want to see his side of things, but I'm really not sure. Personality-wise, he's just... extremely lazy, and I'm not really sure how much of it has anything to do with the disease at all.
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:iconvannvidd:
VannVidd Featured By Owner May 28, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
I'm sorry =(, you're such a good daughter. And not to pick sides, but I'm completely picking yours. It was a bit insensitive of your mother to keep dragging you to things when you felt like crap, glad it's over now, and if you want to feel a bit outraged, I don't think anyone will blame you.
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