I find it hard to tell friends and colleagues, The sombre tale of sickle in my blood. Oh, how I find it hard to wear, That deadly badge with pride. Even though I speak of it, To strangers far and wide, There’s always something that stops me, When I want to shout, Look. Listen. This is my deadly, hidden secret! Fears of looks of initial admiration, Will quickly and surely turn to pity. That version of me that once filled their imagination, Has now quickly, Disintegrated to dust.