Another needle in my arm,
A waiting room awaits,
There trying to analyse the harm
That health has on my fate.
Sample some more blood,
Repeat the symptoms like a list,
The pain is a tidal wave and flood
That takes its toll like a deathly kiss.
The doctors care and want to cure
But people are not human but patients,
The stabilisers and pills aren't pure
The waiting room is silently vacant.
I know that this pain is temporary
But today feels like too long to live
My remains will be fragmentary
But science has more to give.
-by holly boyd
YOU ARE READING
Words We Cannot Speak
PoetryPoems; Woe and hope, love and despair Poems mend us, they repair. Broken souls mixed with broken minds, Poems teach us what it is to be alive. They offer thoughts to inspire. They give us hope to aspire, They answer unanswerable questions They offer...
