Multiple Sclerosis

by Bonnie Thomas
(Henderson, Nevada)

Frost Flowers Courtesy of RC Designer (Flickr)

MS

Multiple Sclerosis...

It is a common thief
In the stealing of one's ability to walk

Multiple Sclerosis...
It is an unruly tyrant
In its governing, and its restricting – of our talk

Multiple Sclerosis...,

It is as a whole, made up of so many many, sharpened thorns

It wracks your body, with a constant spinning wheel of that pain

A thousand pricks of a needle's tip, in the chasing of its well hidden slivers

Multiple Sclerosis...

It leaves one outside in the coldness

All alone - just - too shiver

The feverish tossing in too an icy storm

In an unprepared

Multiple Sclerosis...

Its ferocious

Sharply clawed talons

They are always...

They are always of bared

And they are wickedly long

And Yes...

We are scared

For its mapping

On the DNA's ink - in routed

It follows of a not - in any - of the norms

And its bold mass in its shaping

It is forever shifting

Into the no – known - forms

Multiple Sclerosis...

It is truly a match to the strength within those

Those - who are keeping strong

Those

Who are Battle Born

And they have been sworn

In to this endless winding

Of Multiple Sclerosis...

For it takes you in

As a sink filled with water flowing

A fight to stay atop

The copper drain

So much of your energy that you had contained

It is spent

On the doing of those smallest – those smallest of those details

Multiple Sclerosis...,

At times

It can be that shadow with a harshly whipping tail

Surrounding you

Silent

Are these

Your screaming in your daily wail

As it haunts you

That pitched black

Scary shadow

That is so very large

And it likes to play

Those evil little games with your sight

A haziness, it has come to enter in to the night

Multiple Sclerosis...

It is made up of this

The dark

Snuffed out is that light that you had once called your shining youth

Multiple Sclerosis,...

It wears a snickered smile of an ugly un-couth

While holding inside of its pudgy cheeks

All of those questions that you have

That are remaining - unanswered

Multiple Sclerosis...

It is - as a cancer

In its spreading, and its testing of you

Each and every single day

Once again to it, of it - you must prove

That you have the power within your own mind

Too overcome, this nasty, crippling - disease

Multiple Sclerosis...

It is as a dirty whore in the kneeling upon her knees

It gives, and then it takes it all back - like a tease

Multiple Sclerosis...

It can move throughout your body of jet fast,

Or...

It can take it as a leisure strolling

As a turtles walking of slow

Just ask someone - who has it

For they - they would surely indeed know

That Multiple Sclerosis ...

It is of a tangled mess

Of a once worn - pin-striped bow

Now in tied like a noose tightly

Tightly, around this, our necks

Multiple Sclerosis...

It is a long and an arduous journey

That some

Some..., they do have to travel

One of which, there has been in laid:

Heavy baggage upon their weary backs

And they must trek along this trail while they are fighting off these demons

The demons that do make – for this horrible disease

Multiple Sclerosis...

It bears of only one..., just one good thing

It allows for the “us,” as in the afflicted

Too see...

Just how strong

That we

Really are

Multiple sclerosis...

It is by far

The biggest mountain in our lives that we must find a way to climb

Whether it be with two – too - four wheels, with a stick to guide

Or...

It be by that slow moving ataxia driven drunken ass crawl

If we are to strive at all

With everything,

With all of our might

To reach that very tip-top of this mountain ahead

Then this Multiple Sclerosis...

This unyielding monster

This thing that is made up of this all

This monster

Faced

Head on

By us - the weary but strong

With the power of some new research before us,

Before you and of I

Then this Monster named “Multiple Sclerosis”

It will surely be falling in the coming of times

And our future generations

They will share in the reading

Of these lines

A scrolling through history books

Of how this monster

A monster with no defined look

It had once stood

As being greatly tall

Until the “affected”

They drew from within deep

In the slaying of this,

The all

Leaving behind only the memories for which to tell

Of how Multiple Sclerosis, and all of its wickedly wild ways

It fell

Like particles within a handful of dust

Being dropped down into the hole of an endless well.

This disease, it became a mere story

Written

For our future generations

For them...

Too tell.