The little things

A poem about about my foot (that isn't really about my foot)

This poem isn't mine, all credit goes to Dodie Clarke, but I loved it so much I just had to share it.

Today I hurt my ankle, I passed out from the pain. I thought that it was broken, turns out it's just a sprain.

I don't get any crutches, no bandages, no bruise. A slightly swollen lump, just isn't enough proof.

If you were to feel it you'd expect it to be blue, a mangled mess with a bone sticking out, you'd call an ambulance too.

But I'm smiling with my ice pack, this sort of goes to show, people can feel like they're on fire, and you'd never really know.