Tracey in Maine

My days all start with the same old game, open your eyes jump and up quick or feel like your dragging yourself all day,

Getting out of bed and moving around , is like telling the future of what my day will behold,

Someday I wobble and don’t feel secure not really sure if I will land on the floor

I take my pills, a handful to start, try to be a mother, try to be a wife

Half an hour at a time, I live my life

Not sitting too long or reading at all, it knocks me out and I hit a wall.

The day will end , no matter what time, if I drive or ride, read or write , mostly if I use my computer at all,

30 min later the alarm will ring, half an hour at a time, what a life

Falling asleep driving limits this for me , the thought of hurting anyone I can’t go far from home

What work could I do, physically week and plenty of pain for me

Can’t sit at a desk or stand for long , can’t drive , can’t type, can’t even write this blog, my eyes are falling

This day is over, the monotony of my life

Living 30 min at a time ,

my prison inside my own home