Ode to the pity pot!!
My head is throbbing, my body aches...
My feet are sore, I need a break!
My eyes are dull, my hair lost its shine.
Nothing helps, not even turpentine!
I can not sleep, but who can I blame?
my busy mind would put that pink bunny to shame.
My skin is dry, my neck is stiff.
a body transplant would make a great Xmas gift.
My legs are swollen, my chest is sore.
My lungs are bursting, I scream NO MORE!
I wheeze when I breath, I whine when I talk..
My throat feels as if its full of chalk.
If its not one thing, then its another.
I hate to see what tomorrow will discover.
I'm feeling dizzy, I've got the shakes.
My body is crying, give me a break.
Delphi teases me, won't let me chat.
So tell me, whats up with that?
The snow is falling, its all pretty and new.
I walk outside and my fingers turn blue.
Yes I know I am whining here today
the pity pot is available at least once they say.
So just bear with me, I beg you please..
And would someone be so kind and pass the cheese?
Doctors, Psychs, therapists too..
Oh please tell me what am I to do?
Its "Fibromyalgia" they all tend to say..
My reply? "Take this &*$% away! "
And as I take a deep breath, and slowly let it out.
I remember to count my blessings, I have many no doubt.
There's all of you who have stood by me...
through all my trials that were and are yet to be.
there's my children in whom I take great pride.
they aren't perfect, but then again neither am I.
The crisp look of winter in all its glory.
And the ability to tell my wonderland story.
Even this FMS I can be grateful for.
It bought me here, through this open door.
It gave me courage, and strength anew.
To face lifes mysteries, and reach out to you.
It showed me love can be found in the strangest places.
And can be seen on all of your faces.
It helped me to learn to thine own self be true.
and let me know, its OK to be blue.
It taught me that I need to reach out and live;
to take a chance on love, unconditional love is a gift.
And taught me to open my heart, and let someone in.
My Soulmate, my love, my dearest of friends.
Oh I believe the pity pots not for me.
I have so much to be thankful for can't you see.
I am who I am because of all I have been through.
And am so thankful I found my way here to you.
So the heck with the pot, its not my time.
And now I think I will end this rhyme..
Thanks for listening, you've been patient its clear.
And thats one reason I hold each of you dear.
And now rambling rose should surely be quiet...
she walks away and turns off the lights.
-- Melanie Woodruff -- AKA stressed
Written in 2003