Scarred But Unbroken

They call it rare,

like it’s something precious.

But there’s no gold in this isolation,

no treasure in the silence

of empty waiting rooms

and unanswered questions.

Doctors stare at charts,

puzzled eyes scanning

a body that doesn’t follow

the rules they know.

Each test is a threat—

needles, scans,

a parade of possibilities

I don’t want to name.

The fear tastes bitter,

but I swallow it anyway,

because what choice do I have?

Friends try to understand,

but how can they?

Their bodies obey,

while mine rebels.

Their world is certainty—

mine is shadow.

I speak in terms they can’t translate,

and loneliness echoes back.

There’s grief in the knowing—

no cure waits at the finish line,

no magic fix to make me whole.

Just the heavy truth

that this rare thing I carry

is forever.

It’s a burden I never chose,

but it’s mine to bear.

Still, I stand here,

scarred but unbroken,

learning to live in a world

that doesn’t see me

but can’t silence my voice.

Because being rare

may be lonely,

but it’s also strength

they’ll never understand.

-Giusiana