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I need the sharpest of knives to slice this
epidermal anomaly from the trappings of my weak and aging body
Deep slices to the elbows, slow and tender slices to the knees
please scratch my legs until they bleed, thank you please
this betrayal of skin, the most hideous part of me
is a possession of the worst kind,
an internal itch I will never be physically able to touch
the P takes over my body, the quintessential tired host
it will never be free . . . as the crimson spreads far above the blood that boils deep within me
People will continue to stare,
invisibly pointing to my sprawling scarlet letter ‘P’
just another ugly ducking,
just another ugly waiting stranger hiding deep inside of me . . .
I hate this
It’s the inside that counts, nothing else.
Let them stare if they will, they know nothing of the person…nothing.
And it’s a person worth knowing more than most I’ve encountered.
Those who care, don’t care.
I’m sure you know what I mean.
It seems like the world is looking with a magnifying glass but know that it’s not true.
It doesn’t make it any easier to live with .
Maybe the Joy will work. Maybe.
I don’t know what you’re talking about. Psoriasis, maybe? I’ll send my healing thoughts your way, though.
I’m with ‘anonymum’…..”Those who care, don’t care.” How true! Thinking of you!
Sounds miserable. My sympathies and best thoughts for a quick recovery.
my friend is a Psoriasis sufferer for several years and there seems to be no permanent cure for it. .*