Cruel Reality

I injured my hand during the first week of last December. I hoped that it would heal naturally since there was no initial pain. It evolved into a larger worry non the less. Now after 3 visits to the doctor I should finally be seeing a specialist. Why is it that doctors never seem to take a person serious unless there is blood pouring down to the ground? Should my arm be hanging from a nerve fiber before action is needed? I clearly mentioned how severe the problem was and how easily it could turn worse. Yet even when I am willing to pay for the attention needed, it is not enough. I am forced to raise my voice, flare my nostrils, allow every wrinkle to stand tall and my face to light up red. Only then I am offered a near option which may lead to a hopeful result. They could not seem to realize what I was feeling...imagine if I had cancer. It may have taken months before anyone would do a proper analysis. So I share my cruel reality with you. However, I am hopeful, and positive today and tonight!



I have dreamed of great feats,
Planned the journey therefore,
Disciplined my desires and needs,
Never asking for anything more,


To only wake in good strength,
Fueled by every breath, 
To lift the burdens of others,
Throwing them into the void,
Flying high without feathers,
Having every muscle employed,


Yet it seems rest calls for me,
Weakness overcomes the healthy,
Ambitions watered down by reality,
In mirrors and eyes a new image to see,


An image not of me.