Migraine
You are the pound of a drum, percussion inside of my head.
You are my cold, hardened pillow made of bricks; you are red.
You ruin me and I hate you. You are my cracking skull--
a build-up of bursting pressure. You are my gray, blurry
vision--you are my blindness. You are my undying nausea; you
make me so terribly sick.
Copyright © Carly Bradshaw | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment