It's Just a Day . . .

Do you see the pain I feel

                  in my face or in my eyes?

Do you believe that this is real

                  or feel I'm living behind a lie?

 

When I cry do you hear?
                   . . . do you listen when I talk?
Do you understand my fear?

                   . . . or am I just someone to mock?

 

Does anyone out there even know

                 what each day I face could be?

I can't stay but I don't go

                  sometimes it's hell just being me.

 

So I walk away head held high

                  back held straight and strong.

It's the way that I get by

                  lasting only as the day is long.

 

So here we go

                         another day

                                              I don't know

                                                                    what's left to say . . .

My good friend, Tracy, wrote this poem.  She is a strong, accomplished and beautiful woman with a delightful sense of humor.   Tracy loves gardening, and her wonderful dane puppy, Jagger, and she is enthusiastic about life.  I treasure her friendship more than she will ever know!  Tracy has had fibromyalgia for 18 years.