Meds Poem by Ben Sparaco

The sun came too late,
The moon came too soon,
This is where I will spend my life,
Locked inside this white room,
No illness is too deadly,
No sickness is too slim,
The gentle part of my heart I must slowly trim,
Strapped arms sting,
My meds they rush to bring,
My ears loudly ring,
I never saw myself this way,
God my mind oh has it betrayed,
Though my body is trapped here forever,
To be cured I will never,

COPYRIGHT 2008 BEN SPARACO POEMS