Tuesday, 23 August 2011


I sit here each day, my mind wandering
Where do I go from here, pray?
Am I destined to fritter away what is left
Of my life, sitting here every day?

My legs, they hardly function
My arms, they are rubbish too
My neck gets so tired I find it hard to explain
The feelings of frustration to you

I daydream about what things might have been
It is silly, I know, and depressing
But, mainly, I ask myself why do I bother?
As carers do my washing and dressing

My retirement was to be idyllic
Three months of the year in the sun
The rest of the year I would fritter away
Enjoying each day one by one

Fate has dealt a blow that is bitter
MND is surely no fun
It robs one of life bit by little bit
Not to be wished on anyone

I try hard to remain somewhat positive
Think about what I can still do
Unfortunately, the list is not very long
But I still have a voice, that is true

I can carry on writing my poetry
Or whinge, as I do in my blog
I could write the odd article about MND
And how everyday is a slog

I can still shout about how bad life is
Being stuck in a flippin’ wheelchair
Doing nothing else but computing
When I’d much prefer to be elsewhere

But, there’s light at the end of the tunnel
A new culprit has reared up it’s head
Though I don’t know if the research will find
A real treatment before I am dead

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