by Becky Ayers
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Rated "G" by the Author.
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A dark poetic look at the thoughts of brain damage and seizures.
Wretched brain inside my head, causing me pain while waiting for death.
Cursed with defects to live with each day, whilst watching my friends as their lives go astray.
My strength grows weary, covering my pain, as my family insists I have nothing to gain.
My mind has been altered, my future has changed.
I was meant to be different, but never this strange.
As I listen to stories of fits I have thrown, my body convulsing, my mind not my own.
Born into pain, never quite sure, my brain is an outcast, having no cure.
Although I might wander into my own world, I fight for reality as my body unfurls.
Wrought with desire to be just the same, but born into life with this wretched brain.
Author Becky Ayers
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|Reviewed by Michelle Mead
|This is excellent. You've taken a huge subject and described it so well in a small space while keeping your form and rhyme. The feelings you showed in this remind me of how it is to have mental illness (my brother was schizophrenic) and someone with a chronic pain condition as I have could also relate to the feelings of wanting to just be like everyone else. My own quest for that has caused me no end of injuries when I pushed myself too far. Great poem.|
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|Real indeed, Becky, and frightening
and very distressing for the victim
and for loved ones.