It starts small,
you don’t even notice
to begin
and then that annoying ache
keeps crying,
“let me in, let me in.”
Your vision blurs
and your temples throb
and the light burns
and the world spins.
Soon you can’t think,
you can’t stand,
even sitting
is an act so grand.
The day is done,
there is no carrying on
so I fade to black
and let my mind be gone.
Migraine
Published
Autumn Siders 