Pain

This poem is for EmoBlood, as your poems made me think of this topic again, and my own experience of it. My constant affliction, refusing to leave, it seeks my attention, granting no reprieve. Ragged, wretched and torn, picking the flesh off my bone, I’m left alive yet I’m shorn, of everything, I’m all alone. Shrieking horror raged; in my punch drunk ears, through the night it engaged: my senses, my self, my fears. And I’m left in a crumbled pile; my bed made out of all my parts; now covered and drenched with my bile; I fear I’m bleeding fromits shards. All the pieces of me scattered around; I gave up the task of trying to count, how many pieces will you send, how quickly you think, will I mend?