The woman with the issue of ... (insert chronic illnesses here)

I’m rubbed raw Life like sand paper to my skin It burns Nerve endings exposed as my soul shows signs of hemorrhage I’m broken. Broken open, chest cracked. But these jagged edged pieces of flesh don’t really resemble surgical precision. I feel like You’ve peeled back every layer of me to examine me in this condition Is the world up in the gallery as You cut in to my insecurities without any anesthetic Do they gasp as You find that everything is mangled inside from the blows that this body has taken in this car crash called life Can You save me Massage this hardened heart to life and give it new rhythm. Expand these lungs constricted from breathing polluted air of lies and collapsed from nights spent crying: I’m cyanotic. Finger tips blue from the cold world which changes my hue and my views on living. Can You crack open my skull and detangle that subarachnoid space between my ever accelerating thoughts about death. Can You mimic my limbic system. Re-wire my amygdala and maybe I will feel You again. Can You hot-wire my hippocampus and give me new thoughts about the broken, jagged memories of my past. Renewing my mind is as easy as neuroscience. Just think this way for 63 days they say. They don’t all hear my thalamus screaming at me to run in my dreams even when it gives me no sleep. Just think positive. O positive to be precise: universal donor, and so I transfuse this used blood in to the bed sheets. Red lines on wrist that seem to tell of times when I wanted You out of my system. What can wash away my sins. What is it about blood. Red liquid to the eye but microscopically millions of cells working to give life. It’s all Your design. The blue vein lines on my inner thigh like a map. Only You can trace it out but my oh my: how I have let many men try. The blood rushing to their lust as I try to find solice in that thrust but I only find Pain An abstract concept really. Unquantifiable and invisible to human eye. Not found in the place it is felt but seen on functional MRI as a reaction in the brain. Chemistry. Essentially just a response of a few things bonding together that were better left apart. Chemistry. How clever: Your sculpting together this anatomy. Scientifically calculated with outliers that are apparent anomalies. Like me. Body seemingly whole, but a few short circuits here and there and I suffer invisibly. But You made me. Knitted me together in mother’s womb: were You distracted? I wonder. When You hardwired me for pain did You mean to say purpose? Or were they one and the same. Oh great physician. Neurologists, cardiologists and the like are not impressed by me. That hole in your heart will close they say. The pain you feel is in your head wish it away. Even psychology says there is fault in my brain. Oh great physician Would you heal me today?