Migraine

Pressure.
A building force in my skull,
Pushing against it's walls.
Like something trying to
Bash it's way out.
Cracking both bone thought,
Enough to enrage and
Bring sickness.
Tears, even.
The crescendo you can feel.
Coming, coming.
Always in the build
But it never gets there
And the sound just doesn't die down.

The pain; enough to drive you mad.

Reviews

[LittleBear]

Too true. Nice words. Well fit to describe it. Will you read and review my poem, "Sweet Like The Smell Of Syrup"?