Poetry

With severe pains, I was brought forth
As I joined the world of the living
My mother's pain ceased
Her happiness and joy increased

My pain also began
The pain was resistant to cures
If the resistance could be measured,
It would qualify as a perfect insulator

As the years wore on
My affliction intensified
The aches insistent
Like the hammer of a blacksmith

As days went by
My wounds kept crying for the grave
But my soul sought deliverance
My being, desired a cure

I do not know
If a cure I’ve found
But what I do know is this:
I've found solace
In a cocktail
Of coke, lidocaine and morphine...