deepundergroundpoetry.com

PCOS

She lives inside my body like an unwanted house guest ; unwelcome by all.
She strikes at the most important moments and leaves me with nothing but anger and pain.
She stays inside my lungs like a cancer that refuses to be killed, she is part of me.

I wake up sometimes mad at the world and the sky,
Mad at anything and everyone who tells me that I’ll be alright.
Because I am not alright, I am not fine.
I wake up and yell at god, asking why me.

There is no cure for what I have, and I may never have children because of it,
And I think that’s what hurts me the most, that I will never be a mom to children of my own.
Everyday is a constant struggle between my bed and my depression,
And I am the poor punching bag.

I like to talk to god most days, thinking maybe he will cure me.
But he never does.
Written by Fallen_Angel_194 (Angel.)
Published
Author's Note
About a year and a half ago I was diagnosed with a chronic illness called Poly cystic Ovarian Syndrome, and there is no cure. I am constantly sick, and I have missed out on a lot because of it, and this is my way of coping with it.
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