I'm okay

I'm okay

I'm five or six

Not exactly the picture of grace

Cuts and bruises adorn my elbows and knees

But with every fall 

I stand back up and shout

I'm okay

I'm 12 or 13 

Still not beauty or Grace 

Taunts and snide comments decorate my days at school

But with every questioning look 

I smile and say 

I'm okay

I'm 19 or 20 

I see my beauty 

but the doctor doesn't

Looking at my bones he sees the problem

They will cut 

They will screw m

They will change and rip and tear and strip and change

The body it took twenty years to accept

I'm not okay

Do not go gentle into that good night Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.