Stitch This

I crashed and burned today, 

my body just refusing 

To move the way I wished it to,

I stopped and pain ripped through.

My friend appeared and so I asked

For help.

She did, of course.

And so I glided home

A passenger

 all tucked in tight

But weary to the bone.

My partner saved me at the gate

And placed me on a throne

Of rocking chair and threadbare stool

And gave me water cool.

I cried, I have to admit now.

I cried, the tears were hot.

Because I have so much to do 

But I had quite forgot,

That moderation is the key,

I have to pace myself.

Because a swoop begats a dive

And I can’t face myself.

And yet I’m here at almost 12.

I’m sitting up alone.

Because despite my limits clear

I still must make you hear…

Make you understand – 

 this Disease does not define me

Confine, oh yes, it does that well

But best me? 

Not a hope in hell.