I'm Here If You Need Me...

My heart aches,
My mind has run out of excuses.
My body is limp.
Why must my body betray me,
When I find something I love?

Yes, I’ll be a doctor.
I’ll fix the wounded,
I’ll heal the sick,
And help those who’ve
Run out of options.

 No you won’t.
This anxiety will run your ragged.
Your poor legs will tire of standing
and your hands will forever be
Unsteady.

Fine then,
I’ll be a pianist.
I’ll play the keys with expertise
And show the world that I can
Make music. 

I’m afraid not.
Your hands will shake
Your palms will sweat
And your right hand will move much faster
Than your left.

Then i’ll be a writer.
I’ll write with no end.
Stories, poems, novels, scripts.
I’ll write them all.
You can’t stop me.

You’re a good writer,
I’ll tell you that.
But inspiration will only come 
When emotion has taken over
Your feeble mind.

Why must my body betray me?
I cannot walk long distances;
I cannot run the short. 
I tire too easily.
My patience has run out.

So what will you be?
What can you find that will
Make not only you,
Happy,
But me, too?

Ah, dear body.
This I cannot answer.
At least, not yet.
I have to make you better
Before I may finally reach for the stars.