Poem thingy about chronic illness

i wrote this randomly one night at like ten pm but its like the best thing ive ever done. wanna make it a comic at some point!)

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I do not believe my body has any mal intent

I do not think it is wrong or disgusting for all the reasons it is, in my eyes, incorrect

Wrong seems rude, and bad seems to not fully display my body's hard work

Incorrect, then, must be correct

I don't feel entirely normal

I know that, considering everything, this is normal

I feel more like a crude and inhumane marriage of machine and flesh

A rusted robot that only knows how to creak

A rotten corpse who only know how to feed the maggots

A cyborg, in some way, but less cool

More sickening, more horrific, more me

I am a wolf with a broken paw, a torniquet around myself

A run-down cathedral littered with graffiti, a blunt knife in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use it

A coffin dropped by the pallbearers, a deer who loves the bear and its teeth

I am many things, all of them not me

All of them a collection of feelings I cannot put into normal words

All of them an image of something awful

Something beautiful

That is me, an amalgamation of sickness and handsomeness

A cabinet which houses both wine classes and plastic children's cups

A favourite movie on dvd, scratched over time by clumsy fingers

A wife who shared the plague with a kiss

I choose to share my experience carefully through prose, as the truth doesn't make sense, nor fill your mind with any image that could be seen as romantic

I would rather tell you about an old, worn, and loved plush bear, than a dislocation and a hospital visit

I would hope you would prefer to hear this as well

It is more charming, a prettier way of seeing my limitations and pains

My body is simply a poorly oiled machine, while also being a carcass known by many ants

Maybe I am the grass in that metaphor, covered and fed by gore

I hope to one day lay in the ground, surrounded by dirt

With no wood or clothes to separate me from the worms

I want to feed where we all come from, though I may poison the water with my sickness

Maybe I'd be better rotting in a stone room, chained to a wall

A pretty object of life and sleuthing skin for all to watch

A cruel means of entertainment, though I do not mind

I shall put on a smile for those eagerly awaiting my bones reveal, and love the flies as much as they love my flesh

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hoped you enjoyed! it means a lot to me and im very proud of it so yeah :3