TOO SICK TO COME

I don’t get how this system’s built,

especially not with the cards I’m dealt.

The sicker I am, the more they say,

“Come in each week, don’t skip a day.”

But they don’t see what “sick” means here

It’s not just pain, it’s disappearing.

Some days I can’t even leave my bed,

Even sitting up drains all I have left.

I can’t face crowds, or waiting lines,

Fluorescent lights, loud talking minds.

So when I miss an appointment or two,

It’s not rebellion

It’s the best I could do.

And maybe not going

is better for now

For my mind to breathe,

for my soul to bow.

Because healing, to me,

starts where it’s quiet

Not lost in halls

that feel like riot.