Stitch This

i am writing this poem as I hang on a line
trying to claim illness benefit
because i am not fit
to work
and won’t be fine
ever again.
And yet….
as i sit and speak into my phone
and tell the nice lady my every moan
i reflect on where i am now
and what i have done.
And rather than sad
im quite proud of it all
which is nice.
unlike this call.