She Looks Fine To Me
We all have heard that looks can be deceiving,
But how many of us remember that when conceiving
Judgments that could leave souls damaged or in shreds?
We assume they sleep, but we don’t lie in their beds.
There are folks who know how to polish up well,
They don’t like revealing to all their personal hell.
Seeing may be believing, this I understand, but
Just because you don’t see, doesn’t mean there isn’t a cut.
We say we want the honesty we give, all the while,
Many of us have answered, “I’m fine,” with a smile,
When on the inside our hearts are bleeding and cold,
But we refuse to be real, to answer so bold.
So I choose this platform for all of you to blatantly see
Some of the parts that make me unmistakably me.
Most of you see all of the optimism and a positive stance,
But few of you know the steps I take when I privately dance.
You see, today I spent long hours laying in the bed.
“Oh, I wish,” was the retort that a couple of my friends said.
But it wasn’t a choice to get rest and relaxation that I’d made,
The room spun when my eyes opened, so in bed I stayed.
You see the pressure inside my head that brings pain,
It’s not visible to outsiders, like a smudge or a stain.
Just because you’ve never heard me complain,
Doesn’t mean when you forget, the pain doesn’t remain.
And I hate to tell people about the tumor growing inside,
Then I get the looks of pity that try to rip away any pride
That I have in my survival and all of the things I can do,
Like living and breathing, writing and editing too.
So I’m writing this here for all the chronically sick,
Those who are living lives none of us would readily pick,
We don’t always think it necessary to let others pry in and see
Just to avoid hearing that old saying, “She looks fine to me.”
Copyright © 2011 Natasha Guy