If Breathing Was A Choice (Part 3), a poem by Drem

Part 1 explains that I was born in chronic pain. I was born with illness. I’m not saying I’m upset I was born. But I get really frustrated that I’m this way. And I get annoyed that people pity the martyr who is the caretaker- but she made the decision to have me. I had no choice in the matter.

Part 2 is about that at the same time, I’m in no way trying to paint a solely dim picture. I simply mostly see hopelessness. Solely because I know my trajectories. Nonetheless, I try to be positive.

Here he finale, Part 3, where I’m dreaming to not be me.

This is about trying to sort out those feelings in my head.

 

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

If Breathing Was A Choice (Part 3), a poem by Drem

April 14, 2o12

“Or if there was ever a time

that I, at some moment,

a time while making a footprint

in the film wheels

throughout the pages

of our books-

if I ever lived without wishing

to be some other

blonde girl,

skinny, tall

mocha frappe

latte girl,

tell me.

No, it’s not sad.

It’s reality.

It’s not different

from different perspectives.

It’s not gray.

It’s real.

And I’m filled

with jealousy

for dreaming

I was someone else.

I’m not who I dreamed I was.

I wonder if I knew at some level

when I was younger

that falling over and over

was not normal.

That walking was supposed to be freeing.

And handwriting shouldn’t hurt one’s hand.

No, when I was small,

I’d sit and I’d wait

to feel better.

And I’d try

each day

to hold a pen between my fingers.

and I’d wait outside

till there was less light out.

I was always too tired,

feet planted in a rug,

with water rushing,

rushing,

all the time

inside of me.

There’s an ocean.

I’m a seashell

from the inflammation

which is ironic

since I hate the beach

and my body hates the sun.

I’m a seashell.

Sometimes thoughts

creep in

and I wonder, by accident,

if someday I’ll ever

walk away from this world

with no pain.

It’s tempting

I’m forgetting which storyline this is…

maybe this is all a movie

and I’m actually in a theater,

and in just a few more minutes

I’ll get up with the lights that slowly fade in

and I’ll be beautiful and healthy

again.

No, I mean for the first time.

For the first time.


7 thoughts on “If Breathing Was A Choice (Part 3), a poem by Drem

    1. I wouldn’t call it the same name. One gets inspiration from anywhere so go ahead. It would be nice if you linked my poem as your inspiration. Than I’ll reblog you. I did that with another writer. She wrote “blah blah, inspired by Drem” and then she posted and I reblogged. (:

      Liked by 1 person

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