And if so, do you mind sharing? Doesn't have to be related to illness but mine certainly is.

    There is a gulf I can’t cross -- it’s not between you and I, though -- 
    I am in a different anchorage, a different plane;
    a bight which is smote by foreign waves, and an animal, dogged, 
    a beast with mange, rabid, foaming, bones creaking. 
    
    I have inherited an orchard but have no fruit to bear you. 
    I am a painting, pointillism; pocks on parchment paper.
    Someone frame me, archive me, auction me --
    I am thin, sickly, dying. I am costly and worthless. 
    
    I am a tsunami of horseshit and fleas, headed for town.
    
    There is a gulf I can’t cross -- at best, reach the middle.
    I consume everything and turn it into toxic air;
    infect passerby.


Please share :)