Throbbing, pounding,
Growing in intensity.
Every sound magnified
A hundred fold.
Even the slightest ray of light
Is a stabbing pain.
I do my best
Trying not to concentrate
On the pulsating pain;
But it’s so concentrated.
On bended knees I rock
With my head cradled in my hands,
Hoping to ease the torture.
Nauseous and aching,
I cry through the pain
Cursing this body
That suffers migraines.
By: Linda Duncan
© 4/27/2000