Stories In Blood & Ink
_This poem is dedicated to anyone that has a disability or chronic illness, or even both. You are not alone. You are seen. You will be heard. Stay strong. ~ Crystal___
__
__
__
**_Stories In Blood & Ink by SuperGimpChick_**__
_We fight—not by choice, but by necessity,_
_navigating the labyrinths of care,_
_a ceaseless skirmish with "real" doctors,_
_“real” nurses, “real” specialists cloaked in white precision._
_We become our own damn doctors,_
__
_study our conditions and medications like sacred texts,_
_memorizing every interaction,_
_every side effect,_
_every whisper of our medication's voice._
__
__
__
_We fight—for dignity, for respect,_
_to be seen as human,_
_not as burdens or anomalies._
__
_And it’s exhausting…ink_
__
_Believe me, I fucking get it._
__
_Exhaustion’s shadow looms,_
__
_it wraps around our bones,_
__
_presses down on our hearts,_
_but still, we rise._
__
_We do our self-care rituals,_
_Mine? I write and I write. And I write._
__
_And ink becomes armor,_
_lines become lifelines._
__
_In these words, a flicker ignites inside of me, ,_
_a firestorm of resolve,_
_to hold accountable those_
_who ignore our pain, our humanity,_
_who view us as mere cases_
_in their clinical theater._
_I’ve set a blaze to shield the next generation,_
_to prevent their stories from echoing ours._
__
_I scour tales of medical neglect,_
_of abuse, wrongful death,_
_injuries painted in sterile rooms,_
_each story a mirror,_
_reflecting our collective struggle._
_Because we all have a horror story,_
_we, who were never meant to survive_
_into adulthood._
__
_The system wasn’t built for us,_
_wasn’t ready for our endurance._
_These so-called professionals,_
_they flounder in their ignorance,_
_their indifference,_
_and that, my friend,_
_is the real tragedy._
__
_But we, we are the survivors,_
_the fighters, the storytellers._
_We blaze trails in our own blood,_
_and from our exhaustion,_
_we rise._
__
_We rise for those who cannot,_
_we speak for those who are silenced,_
_we fight for those who are unseen._
_Every battle scar, a testament_
_to our resilience, our defiance._
__
_We demand to be heard,_
_to be seen, to be treated_
_with the dignity we deserve._
_We are not anomalies,_
_we are the future they didn’t foresee._
__
_And in the quiet moments,_
_when the world seems too heavy,_
_when the fight seems too long,_
_we find solace in each other,_
_in the shared burden of our stories,_
_in the unyielding strength of our community._
__
_For you are not alone in this fight,_
_we are a chorus of voices,_
_a symphony of survival,_
_each note a declaration:_
_We are here. We matter._
_And we will not be silenced anymore!_
__
_So I write. And I write._
_With every word, I reclaim my power,_
_with every line, I forge my path._
__
_For the fire within me burns bright,_
__
_a beacon for others to follow,_
_a light in the darkness of indifference._
__
_And as long as there is breath in my body,_
_I will fight. I will write._
__
_And we will rise._
