This poem was written shortly after I had the medial meniscus removed from my left knee. It was an arthroscopic (thank you, @hayleeng!) procedure, quickly done and with a quick recovery. However, prior to surgery I'd been on crutches for five months. I was depressed because the injury made me unable to swim, run, or play basketball and volleyball. I was a very athletic 14 year old, but never popular.

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So, lonely and bored, I sat in my wheelchair with my knee throbbing lamenting my life only the way an angsty, artistic teen can: through rhyming prose. I present it to you complete with original line breaks, punctuation and capitalization.

So It Seems. . .

It seems no one is smiling
As I look around my room.
Their eyes are all upon me
And they share my silent gloom.

My parents have lain back down
To slowly sleep away the hours
So I sit here, all alone
To watch the dying flowers.

A chill, damp air blows
And makes me shiver up and down.
I wonder how much longer
My face will wear this frown.

My back is stiff, my leg is sore,
Pain pulses in my knee
But I pretend that I'm okay
To please my family.

Don't be afraid to laugh at this piece. It's ridiculous. I could tear it apart now, but I'd rather take a stab at simplifying it for your continued pleasure:

Post-Op

I will not learn the pleasure
in recovery for 20 years
so now I sit and bathe myself
in large, self-righteous tears.

My parents are exhausted,
I've been given sedating drugs
and I am really moody
but instead of asking for hugs

I'm writing in my journal
meticulously rhyming
because anything I say out loud
will rightly be heard as whining.

What do you think? An improvement?

I'm kidding. I was 14. Life is hard when you are 14 and your dreams of a college basketball scholarship and Olympic medal in swimming have been dashed. It was tough, but I got through it. Both the injury and puberty. If only I could tell 14-year-old me that now.

What would you tell your younger self if you could time travel?

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