a stealthy opponent
The reality of five hits me like a tonne of bricks,
As I suddenly admit I’ve unknowingly,
Or perhaps simply secretly,
Placed all my expectations,
Onto this age,
As if drawing an invisible line,
That once reached,
Would see us cut through the ribbon,
Arms in the air in victory,
As Isaac walks himself independently across the finish line.
I evidently had become,
That this was the magic number.
The fall back to actuality is hard.
Dressed up as hope,
Is a stealthy opponent.
Easily catching you,
Completely by surprise.
And the realisation of my own stupidity,
Equal to the shock.
Because I thought I was closer to acceptance than that.
I thought I understood more clearly,
The gravity of his injury,
The extent of his disability.
But I am mistaken.
Plastered with a fake smile,
To help conceal the scars.
I do love him,
With all of my being.
But today I loath,
His disability more.
For what it has taken from him,
And for what I seemingly cannot accept.
And therefore muster up,
In order to survive it.
Ripping me out of any peaceful,
To a cold and brutal truth.