NYCLawGirl
New member
I know you all don't want me subjecting you to my mediocre poetry, but I wrote this after an incident at work today. As background, I'm a lawyer at a firm on Wall St. so it's pretty intense, but I LOVE my job. 99% of the time my firm is totally understanding about CF and I'm very honest and upfront about it. That said, sometimes I feel like I get treated as fragile or unable to do the work when I CAN and I just want the chance to prove myself. Silly to complain about them being too sensitive, I know, but to vent my frustration I found myself writing this. Sorry in advance if any of you are poets <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif" border="0">
"Please Don't"
Do not tell me that I'm fragile:
I've withstood storms so powerful
they could have blown my house down,
shattered my world,
and I am yet not broken.
Do not tell me that I'm weak:
I've fought enemies
invisible yet all the more violent
for their lack of size,
and I have not yet been slaughtered.
Do not tell me that you're worried:
I've made decisions, right and wrong,
steered my life and held its course
through many twisted paths,
and I have not yet lost my way.
Do not tell me that you pity me:
I find joy in every play of the light
against a window, and every
breath no matter how hard won,
and I am not yet ready to give up my joy.
Above all, please do not tell me that because my life
may scare you
that I am somehow weaker,
somehow more afraid,
more easily broken.
Do not try to turn your fear into my weakness.
I am both a lover
and still a fighter.
So please,
Don't.
"Please Don't"
Do not tell me that I'm fragile:
I've withstood storms so powerful
they could have blown my house down,
shattered my world,
and I am yet not broken.
Do not tell me that I'm weak:
I've fought enemies
invisible yet all the more violent
for their lack of size,
and I have not yet been slaughtered.
Do not tell me that you're worried:
I've made decisions, right and wrong,
steered my life and held its course
through many twisted paths,
and I have not yet lost my way.
Do not tell me that you pity me:
I find joy in every play of the light
against a window, and every
breath no matter how hard won,
and I am not yet ready to give up my joy.
Above all, please do not tell me that because my life
may scare you
that I am somehow weaker,
somehow more afraid,
more easily broken.
Do not try to turn your fear into my weakness.
I am both a lover
and still a fighter.
So please,
Don't.