Please Like , Comment & Share so we come up in your newsfeed more Ty š Christinaās poem, āHiddenā Brain injury Have I lost something? Keys, ID, purse? Nope, just simply feel like Iāve lost my worth. How do I feel in society now? Like a penny splattered on the floor. An open wide room, is now just a closed door. A visual disability, wheelchair, plasters or scars, Can always be very clear, But brain injuries are invisible, Causing me stresses and fear. Other people, they donāt know, but they also canāt know, No-one can get inside my head, I want to be included in society, Not leave my house with anxiety and dread. What will others think of me, when I walk through the door? Will they be asking each other, why canāt she do more? I suffer with bad memory, anxiety and stress, but I just canāt wear the ādisabled dressā. No-one can tell my problems, just from one look, They make me feel like Iām a character from a comedy book. My condition is one that I like to keep hidden, Almost glad no-one can easily tell. But I sometimes do madly wish I could be wrapped in that ādisabled shellā. I find myself being envious of people whose disabilities are clear, But then I take time to get in the right gear. Iām alive and well, can walk and can talk just like others, But my disability is hidden under brain injury covers. By Christina Corp Copyright Ā©
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 09:31:49 +0000