Chatterbox: Inkwell

This is a poem that I wrote about my knees and not being able to run for a year or more. It's rather random...but, thoughts?:

Broken You’re supposed to brush it off. Move on with your life. Nothing to see here, nothing amiss.  You’re supposed to not care. Get new interests, you can’t miss the track that much. Don’t long for the smell of the soccer field or the polished wood floors on the basketball court. Don’t feel. They comfort you with empty promises. Yes, we’ll get you better. No, you won’t be like this forever. Yet you hear them worrying behind closed doors.  They do their best, but still, something missing when the pain starts. No one else feels it. No one else knows that you ache. Not just the injury, but in your heart. You long for the freedom to run through the summer. To ride your bike with friends and laugh the day away. To go out and play with the goats without worrying about getting hurt worse. You’re supposed to trade in your cleats and running spikes for orthopedic shoes that won’t hurt. You know that it will make you better, but on the inside, you want to rebel. You want to be a normal kid that can run in gym class and play flag football with your friends.  You don’t want the pitied stares that are shot in your direction. The empty words saying they know how you feel. They don’t. You don’t want to do the physical therapy, or take the pills, though you know that they will help. You just want to have fun. You ache when you walk, but you paste a fake smile on your face so they won’t worry. They know you hurt. They don’t need to be reminded. All you want is to not be in pain. All you want is to live one day without hurting. All you want is to be better. A door closes and another opens. But how can you see the open door when you’re too busy staring at how it all went wrong?

I know that it doesn't rhyme, but it was supposed to be artistic freeverse.

I think it's beautiful, Koffee! Full of emotion.

Old Cricket