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

Image by <a href=”https://pixabay.com/users/Victoria_Borodinova-6314823/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3803871″>Виктория Бородинова</a> from <a href=”https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3803871″>Pixabay</a&gt;



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