I am a battlefield and inside me a war rages
It is the war between migraine and dysautonomia
It the war between light and dark, life and death,
The scars cannot be seen- they are hills, divots, and balls in the field.
One day the speech is taken and I fight to talk,
Language and reading go next, as I struggle to read the alphabet.
Pain forces me down and there are days I long to surrender to the diseases within me.
However, I must fight, no matter the pain, or the cost which is a shell,
I must fight to live and fight to win.
I shall not lie on this field, but I shall fight-
With medicine, doctors, devices, and myself.
I will win, for I have heard that there is a place,
Far beyond the sky where there is no pain,
Where battles do not rage,
Where bodies are clean and whole,
And there I shall rest, green, fertile, and loved,
The meadow that shows no sign of battle- there shall I rest and be free
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