431 Days With A Concussion

July 19, 2010
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I am not free,

Instead, I am a prisoner in my own mind.
I am not guilty,

But innocent.


I am not weak, I am not defeated yet, and am not a giver-upper
I am not healthy, healed, nor properly functioning,

Instead: I am a soldier, battling a constant internal war, tortured in a stalemate.


I do not have a flawless brain, mind; I have one that hurts to use:
painpainpainpainpain that I am accustomed to.

I am not the same,

But hardened: I have seen pain,

Lived with constant pain,

Seen the ghosts of a past without pain,
Appreciated what it’s like to have a lack of pain.


I am not an innocent child, walking carefree through the high school halls.
I am not a teenage girl whose biggest dream is to be looked at by a senior guy.
I am a teen whose biggest dream is to be healed.

All that I have to hold on to is a wisp of a memory of what it was like before,
a wisp of hope that things will be like they were before,
but even now I’m losing a grip.

Because my mind is unpredictable, and even the important

Are blending together
Or those
f a c t s/ m e m o r i e s/ h o p e s/ d r e a m s
are sli p p i n g out of my reach.

431 days.
10,344 hours.
620,640 minutes.
37,238,400 seconds.
And counting.

But I am not giving up. I am not submitting myself.
I refuse to surrender.
I am a fighter.


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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

hiitsme! said...
Aug. 29, 2010 at 11:03 pm
This is a good poem. Nicely done.
Phaeal said...
Aug. 24, 2010 at 1:16 pm

I'm liking the orthographical representations of struggle and yearning after what's been lost -- or only obscured, we must hope.

Nice job!

MKB17 replied...
Aug. 24, 2010 at 3:40 pm
great job on how you wrote this. I liked how you kept me guessing on what you were fighting, and how you described it in details.  Keep at it!
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