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As I See Myself

Updated: Jun 4

To all intent and purpose, I’m no different from another:

I’m seen as being normal! “I feel fine!!”

My outward self displays a face that signals, ”I am well*.

While my inward self is private: it’s all mine.

For years I have been changing from a person who was once

As fit and well as could have been desired.

But although my image,seen by others still looks rather good,

It has slowed and aged. Now I’m always tired!

The changes in my being are so cruel, very strange,

They are changes that are difficult to describe.

I have feelings that could, if allowed, reduce me to a state

Of depression: though to that I won’t willingly subscribe.

I must go on and show the world that I am my own master,

I will not let it get the better part of me.

I will be in control, I will not flounder, will not sink

Into the depths of worrying: what’s in store for me!


The strangest thing is why it had to happen,

I can’t think why it came to bother me!

What can I do to make it go away and not return?

Will I ever have the chance to be quite free?

My body is so strange: it doesn’t move the way it should,

It has a mind to do whatever it chooses.

At times it doesn’t do the things I try hard to make them happen,

Then, at other times, it performs, my limbs, it, uses!


The weight my leg will carry seems a ton, or maybe more,

Then in a switch-flicks it feels light as feather.

To move an arm or leg can be difficult to achieve,

As though they’re weighted down, can you believe?

The tension in my being is as hard as tempered steel,

Like a rock that has been standing for some years.

To shake away the stays, to rid the body of restraints 

Is impossible,: they’re fixed-they bring me tears!


My brain is not yet tarnished to a state that causes pain,

Although it too has changed. It’s not

It’s not as quick to work, it’s not as nimble as it was,

To protect me from a world that now can hurt.

My confidence has been well shaken, it’s become an empty shell,

Without a heart, it does not work, it’s dead!

The confidence that once I knew which once was strong and full

Is now a shadow, and in its place stands dread.


Dread of things unknown, of sharing time with others,

The dread of being forced to make a decision,

The dread that others see me with a body uncontrolled ,

The dread that I’ll be the cause of their derision.

Yet though these moments of despair take hold of one’s own thoughts

To challenge one’s intentions, rule one’s heart,

Reality must win the day, must bring one to one’s senses,

And put a halt to tearing life apart.


I must go on, must wear a face that seems to tell the world

That I’m no different from the rest. That I’m 

Quite confident, quite able to get by, quite well -disposed.

I’ll be master of my life till the end of time.

If I should settle into giving vent to my worst fears

And live a life of sorrow, feeling stress.

It would be the end, would be the path to utter hell.

I could not live like this, I must confess.


It is the outward sign of what has happened to my life,

It has become distorted; it’s a mess.

It emphasises clearly that the future does not hold

A well - marked path: the route we can but guess.

I’ve reached a stage of desperation, feelings of despair

Come fleeting cross my mind, they can’t be lost.

They’re real, they’re all pervading, ruthless and so cruel,

They take possession like a boat, wave-tossed.


A reason that has stripped me of my confidence once owned

Is seen when trying to write a simple verse.

My writing, that was fluent, and once as free as light 

Has been tortured, it’s been killed, it’s now quite terse.

Instead of words appearing on the page at the speed of light

I have to think quite hard before they will appear.

I’m not a wizard typist, this means I constantly have to halt,

To check for typos that I find and to make them disappear.


Moments of despair take hold of one’s own thought,

Distorting one’s intentions, rule one’s heart,

Reality must win the day, must bring one to one’s senses,

And put a halt to tearing life apart.

I must go on, must wear a face which seems to tell the world 

“I’m no different from the rest. That I’m 

Quite confident, able to get by - I’m well-disposed.

I shall be master of my life till end of time.


If I should settle into giving vent to my worst fears

And live a life of sorrow, feeling stress,

It would be the end, the path which leads to utter hell.

I could not live like this, I must confess.

So, I must weigh it up and view the way my life now stands:

The weakness, shaking, twitching, slowing down.

Shall I give in, shall I depend on others, shall I quit?

No, I’ll not live out my last years with a frown.


I’ll look at all the credits that are in abundance, true,

I’ll see that I have nothing to cause pain.

I have a mind, I have a home, I had a husband grand,

I have a family! These can me sustain!

So, let me finish, let me stop reflecting on my lot, . 

Let me look only to the future days,

I’ll try to take the right path, do the right thing, make the most

Of my advantages. Let me sing their praise..



22 views4 comments

4 comentarios


Woe that took a lot of work. So much good content. Thank you for sharing

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A tour de force indeed. Quite an accomplishment!

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Well done Val, so much there I can relate to. we all have our down days but when it comes down to it we must live our lives as best we possibly can. Try and stay strong and be happy it really does make a big difference. I know it’s easier said than done at times but it is the best way to get through this. I always say I don’t live with Parkinson’s….

Parkinson’s lives with me. ( I call it Cecil and I keep him locked up in my cellar ).

More power to your pen .

Best wishes for the future..Mark

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Thanks for your comments, Mark! My poems seem to display me as bring very down and dispirited. In reality I’m not. I’m a very happy, smiling person, iin full control of her Parkinsons Cecil, even though I am now totally immobile.see my poem, Autumns’s a Fade..

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