soul poetry |
The Pain in Pain… They ask me to describe my pain; Explain to them how it’s a drain. Enlighten them on how I feel To justify that it is real. How many doctors have I seen? The pain has now become obscene! So dreadful that it makes me cry! So constant - that I want to die. Relentless is this monstrous fiend For in my life it’s intervened In ways that still the lightest heart - By means that tear my world apart. So off to doctors I must go, And seized in pain I have to show Them all what ails my every move; With hopes my health might be improved. But they write ‘scripts’ that make me sick. They carry an imposing kick That make me feel far worse than well – A dreadful space in which to dwell… They order tests that say I’m fine; All’s normal! Everything’s in line - And yet they see by visual means There’s something wrong within my genes. So thus, I suffer every day. I wake up in the same old way; A little worse – a stronger twinge. With dawn, anew - I shrink and cringe. My precious hours are spent in bed. My feet don’t work! I'm filled with dread At what needs done… what I can’t do - With little help to see me through. I do my best to fill my time. I pay the bills - I pen my rhymes. But I can’t work! Nor can I hike! Two joys in life I really like… So I lay here in prayer to cope; Awaiting cures with fervent hope. They best be quick! I’m sinking fast. I want this pain part of my past! |