The headache
That comes from
Spilling your guts
The anxiety from
Wondering if you'll
Get to a private place in time
And the embarrassment
From the people around you
After you've failed to isolate yourself
The anxious stares from
Everyone in the room like
I'm some sort of plagued being
And the humiliation of
Being escorted to a
Quarantine room
My poor sister
Poked and prodded
About my well-being
And myself poked and prodded
With questions and explanations
And COVID tests
The fear to eat or drink
Because starvation
Is better than the nausea
All of this playing out
Makes me want to
Hide away from the world
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
