gnawing its way through.
Clinging to every muscle, every nerve,
feeding to build strength,
whilst leaving me with even less.
A minute piece of leg gone,
a brain’s thought dissolving,
the touch of skin less apparent.
You never know when or
where the next bite will come
until a movement suddenly lessens,
makes you sit up and notice,
breaking the rules of fair games.
Your walk has slowed,
your hand holds that slipping object,
an itch snakes through the skin
and the night times that never last long.
A body once complete now waving goodbye.
But they won’t notice the attack.
From the outside your clothes tell stories:
your hair, your pale complexion,
not the gluttonous feast taking place inside.
The party I wasn’t invited to,
yet still I serve you well.
Background: MS is the tapeworm!