We’re set up for failure from day one,
I mean- how can you win a never-ending battle?
Even when I want to be done,
I’m handed a needle instead of a medal.
Every day is the exact same,
starting with a needle and ending with a number.
A repetitive cycle that I have to claim,
as my pancreas lies in a life-long slumber.
I’m forced to count my carbs, face my highs,
and the lows I must treat take away my light.
The silent war rages, hidden from others eyes,
while I must stand here, willing to fight.
And the weight goes beyond just my skin,
with thoughts that don’t seem to sleep at night.
The fear that I might crumble right in,
pursuing the need to constantly be right.
No, I’m not the one to blame,
as I never signed up to play this game.
It wasn’t the sweets, or any bad habits,
just genetics, no choice, saying “have at it!”
Don’t mistake Type 1 for a weakness,
because this battle won’t come to an end.
I fight quietly each day, willing more power,
with a warrior’s will you can’t bend.
Author’s Note:
I would consider it a type of poetry, but it’s to bring awareness to the struggles of living with Type 1 Diabetes.
Kenzie Jones | 14 | Missouri, USA | @they_kenzie_me_rolling14 on TikTok
