Choicest cuts in the life I had, gone

Choices that I thought were mine

Choices faded into the depressive mists of time

Choices wrenched from weakening grip

Choices in my ability to something, like speech issues, frustrate

Choices in being who I wanted to be, seem blocked

Choices, in summing up for me, are now history

 

Parkinson’s wasn’t my choice?

Losing my sense of smell wasn’t my choice

Not being allowed to drive due to medication not my choice

Having an obsessive compulsive disorder wasn’t my choice

Starting conversations with hallucinations wasn’t my choice

Forgetting how to walk or staggering in the street, not my choice

Having a short term memory problem wasn’t my choices

 

Then again I chose to write these verses you read

Then again through my writing I have made new friends

Then again I can help others cope with my disability

Then again I can self-help, by writing down issues bothering me

Then again I can still perform on stage to exercise my throat

Then again I can still enable parts of society understand

Then again I can still show the world that I’m still here, it’s me!