I just wrote this poem about my week thusfar. I was approved for medicaid in my state, but as most of you probably know, to qualify you have to be well below the poverty line. It is a barbaric system, especially for disabled people such as myself. Take a read, if you have a moment.
This week the state gave me healthcare,
My heart leapt out of my chest.
“Finally!” I thought to myself.
“My body might be blessed.”
For years, you see, I have suffered
With an incurable disease.
My body rips itself apart,
A pain my wallet fails to ease.
But with assistance, oh boy!
Perhaps today is the day
I can see the fancy doctors
And halt the infernal pain.
“Wait! Read the fine print!”
My mind whispers to me.
“It’s illegible, hard to read,
But it’s something you must see.”
So my finger brushes down the page,
Scanning the words I lacked.
At the bottom, I see a tiny phrase:
“Income Limit: $17,774 Before Tax”.
Even working minimum wage,
I’d make nearly double that.
So what, I must remain poor and hungry
Feeding off of scraps?
YES.