This isn't a condition
This is more like a curse
Strobe lights that persist
Voices that scream
A light that sends me away
Those images that swirl
Particular visions of hell
A particular smell catches my eye
The picture falls to the floor
And my muscles start to die
My head continues to throb
With unstoppable pain
My thoughts spiral down
What is your name?
What is wrong with me?
My arms going in all directions
I will forget this ever happening
And relive the whole experience
All over again without knowing
How to manage my body
This isn't just a fit
It is an internal exorcism
The doctors call it 'grand mal'
I call it an endless battle
A war without words
It only takes another fit
Before my heart stops
Therapy is not the cure
The only cure is to pray
That the next time isn't tomorrow
Gender:
Points: 40
Reviews: 279