The Disorder in Functional Neurological Disorder

In my body,

A tempest swirls,

Where nerves and neurons,

Dance.

In misunderstood patterns.



They told me,

'It's functional.' 

As if my limbs conspire against me,

In functionality.



My steps,

Sometimes a stutter.

Not of words,

But of movement.

A pause,

Not in thought,

But in stride.



Pain -

An uninvited guest,

Lingers,

Long after the mind has cleared its throat,

Ready to speak,

Of other things.



They call it disorder,

As though my neurons’ misfire,

Could simply be reordered,

Like books on a shelf,

Neat,

Tidy,

Comprehensible.

- Aspen Greenwood