Introduction

I once had pure energy, to run all day long;
Had the strength to tumble, and to dance to a song.
I had been described as attention-seeking;
Yet, enigmatically shy, and hardly speaking.

I've never fitted neatly into one defined box,
And I was always the kid with the holes in her socks.
I had independence then, was free to pave my own way;
But these privileges, here, were not destined to stay.

My paved road took a turn up a steep rocky hill,
As I became the girl who was constantly ill.
Forever being injured, it felt like a curse!
I thought it was hard then, but with age, it got worse.

Now, I'm a woman – still smart and still sweet;
But it's become near-impossible to spend time on my feet.
Days of running and dancing have long gone away,
As I struggle with dressing and sitting each day.

I retain a youthful face, despite my journey's trials;
I've kept my conscience, and I've not lost my smiles.
But my foggy brain rests beneath layers of haze;
Where the weeks feel like hours, and the months seem like days.

My rotting bones ache beneath skin that keeps bruising;
My poor failing body's both weird and confusing.
I am but a bag made from loose shapeless skin;
Disarticulated bones are contained within.

I'm a moth-eaten doll, held together with tape;
That's covered in bruises, and won't keep its shape.
I fear for my future – for what it might hold;
As degenerating joints already make me feel old!

I'm chronically ill, and disabled, it's true;
But I'm ever wanting to be able to do!
Isolated and trapped with my thoughts and my dreams;
But I am still alive, and life's better than it seems.

I still have some faith; Yes, hope's still around.
I'm still fascinated by colour, by words and by sound.
I'm chronically creative; soulful, artistic;
Imaginative, social, articulate, poetic.

I like things that are cute, and rainbow, and sappy,
As these merry distractions do make me feel happy.
Making art gives me the freedom to be my true self,
Without the restrictions imposed by my health.

Much time spent alone has taught me to know me;
Who I am, what I want, what's important, what is key.
I want other people to notice my skill;
To recognise my dedication, despite my being ill.

I want to be part of a group or a team
With a worthwhile goal, and a challenging dream.
I want to do something that fills me with pride;
Instead of spectating at life from the side.

I am so much more than the diseases I bear,
And there's more to me, still, than the artwork I share;
I say what I think, and I am who I am,
As I'd rather be honest than live as a sham.

I like myself; This I'm not afraid to tell.
Who am I, you ask? I am Adrielle!