On Physical Therapy

My ankle throbs.
My legs ache.
My arms are weak.
What more can I take?

 
I saw the doctor. 
The pain isn’t there.
It comes from my spine
The reason’s not clear.
 
I stretch,
I bend,
I reach,
Pretend 
I’m getting better,
Am I though?
If pain is the measure
Then I do not know.
 
Slowly it’s better
Then quickly it’s worse
Stop for a moment
And in Pain immerse
 
Therapy daily
Is there an end?
I do not feel like the doctor’s my friend.
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Filed under All Poetry, General Poems

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