Deeper than the iris
the flower of our eyes,
There lies a pain
I've come to know,
and there it still resides.
The pressure pointed finger tips
do little to surpress,
The ever-growing pounding
of this giant
who won't rest.
The pills and heat,
also the cold
don't do much to alter,
This monster in my head each day
growing even stronger.
Such intensity! I like this very much. Great job Kim. sincerely, mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Mary. This poem is about migraine headaches. It was nice that you let me know how you felt about my poem. Take care :)