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Tortuous Beating Drum

Blinding flash of light; sword pierces my eyeball and sears; a burning scorch of nausea, cauterizes my stomach lining. Unfolding bellows force the pressure, throughout my blood stream. Boom…boom…boom…boom…migraine; the worlds worst drummer, plays out it’s tortuous tune. It knows, I love music, but none can love, this drummer’s. Light and sound, become the enemy; odors are torturous terrorists. The senses are the first thing to be seared; the whole body’s ensnared. Out of darkness, creeps the freedom turtle; to arrive, with the cure.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 5/9/2019 1:04:00 AM
I thought I had a severe headache; this poem made me cringe,my friend.
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M. L. Kiser
Date: 5/9/2019 2:31:00 AM
And yet, it's still nothing near a migraine. Thanks.
Date: 5/8/2019 4:05:00 PM
'creeps the freedom turtle' - hopefully to bring you some sweet silence from the enemy of light and sound!
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M. L. Kiser
Date: 5/9/2019 2:32:00 AM
Thanks, I needed it. Feeling much better now.

Book: Shattered Sighs