Sickness of the body. Sickness of the mind. No matter which you have, pain is what you find.
Thoughts that torment you, things that bring you down. Make you feel unbalanced, have you acting like a clown.
Aches and pains pulsing through you, you wish you could escape. But they follow always, relief always comes too late.
Doctors are little good, they have so many opinions. It takes so many test, just to find the problem.
Poked and prodded, questions and probes. What is wrong? Well no one knows. It’s enough to make one throw their hands up high, and bring tears of frustration to ones eye.
No one really cares, about the pain we feel. They want us to be quiet, and bring it under heel. Yet how can we do that? If we get no aid? For in the end we take drastic measures, to make it go away
RedRavenPoems 
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