Do Not Pity Me
Don’t pity me
With my chronic
disease.
But pity those
who only have
rags for clothes
and no food to eat.
I’m well-fed
Making me
Difficult for
Parkinson’s
To beat.
So don’t pity me
When I stumble
Through a brain fog
Balance buggered
Shoulders stiff as a rod.
But pity those
Whose future is closed
With no knowledge of greed
Or of growing old.
So don’t pity me
As I go into a slow decline
Pampered with
Pills on demand
And home deliveries online.
But pity those
Shivering in the dark
Their watery eyes
Turned to the stars
And the moon’s reflected light
Shedding silver tears
Onto their outstretched arms.
Do not pity me
But pity those.
