There it is:
The pounding.
The dull throb in my head.
The growing pulse, pulse, pulse
Which I awake to
And know will send me back to bed.
There it is:
The clenching.
The constricting veins
Which will slow my blood flow
Until this present stress wanes.
God, help me overcome this pain
Because last time it knocked me out
And held me down
By the strength of its strain.
–Written by Sandy Heights
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