Obscurity is
approaching, I can feel it in my veins
Muscles,
they are wasting, my strength, I’ll not regain
Stretching
out my arms is a feat no longer easy
Picking up light,empty cups? So hard I feel quite queasy
Going to the
toilet is a marathon in the making
It’s also
very scary, so, no chances I’ll be taking
Washing is a
task that is no longer possible
About my
inability I refrain from being irascible
These days
my only remit is to find a new solution
To each
little problem, though not all have resolution
Hours and
hours are taken up with me scouring the net
Not always
finding answers, though I won’t give up quite yet
If I didn’t
have a purpose I think that I’d go mad
Sitting,
daily, at my desk with my computer, oh, how sad
I set myself
a goal which, when reached, it gives me pleasure
Though a
cure for this disease would be something I would treasure
I think I’ll have to settle with being busy
till my demise
As, hoping
for a miracle is just, ’Pies up in the
skies‘!
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