Dealing with Crohn's

You may see me run to the bathroom
You may see the anguish creep over my face
You may see the goosebumps suddenly appear
But you'll never know the dread
I feel when I get the instant urge to defecate

You may see me emerge from the bathroom
covered in sweat
and walking as if I wore lead boots
You may see me swallow a handful of pills
You may see me starve myself
to prevent an "unpleasant" situation
But you'll never know what it feels like
when you know
you're not going to make it
to the bathroom in time

You may see me with a twisted face of agony
as my insides twist and knot
You may see the scars carved into my stomach
You may see me today
and think I'm just as normal as you
But you'll never see me in the bathroom
eight times before I've finished my
morning coffee.

No, you'll never see me hunt through
bathroom stalls looking for a toilet
that isn't covered in piss
You'll never see me pinch myself
until I bruise as I try to squeeze
back the urge to purge my guts
But you should see my five year old daughter
caress my back and ask me if I feel better
You should see the world as I do when
my symptoms are absent for a whole day
Because I really don't want you to see
any of my suffering
when you look into my eyes
What I want you to see
is a small hand
less than half the size of my own
rubbing my back
and small child that is hoping
to hear that I feel better

If you'll promise not to tell her,
whether I do or not
I always tell her that I'm feeling
just a little bit better
only so I can hear the slight
rise of joy in her heart
which somehow
does make me feel
a little bit better