words i never said

Choices

they speak to me like they know
like they know what it's like
like they have a fucking clue what it's like
to live in this physical hellhole.
to use every last drop of energy i have
to get out of bed each morning
and force the meds through my veins.
as if they could ever fathom
the intensity of the detriment this disease
has had on my life.
as if they could even begin to imagine
the seething hatred and fury i have for it.

they keep saying that i 'have a choice,'
a choice to do it right,
a choice to keep my sight,
a choice not to die.
but little do they know, that that one night
when i was a mere maybe 10 years old
i had already made my choice,
and there is no chance of changing someone,
who has already made up their mind.