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Literature Text
A
Today.
A phone call, a drained feeling in my body.
A feeling comparable to lead.
A small recovery, a feeling of flesh.
A feeling that is common.
A second phone call, feeling like lead would be a blessing.
A trip follows that I don’t want to take.
A conversation next, beginning fine.
A pleasant talk that is quick to turn sour.
A turn for the worst, feeling sick to my stomach.
A kind of sick that makes you want to remove your organs.
A pressure of skull splitting proportions, radiating from one request.
A request that would bind my hands, gag my mouth and, I fear, render me voiceless.
Tomorrow.
A lingering dread.
A drained feeling.
A perception of failure.
A phone call.
Today.
A phone call, a drained feeling in my body.
A feeling comparable to lead.
A small recovery, a feeling of flesh.
A feeling that is common.
A second phone call, feeling like lead would be a blessing.
A trip follows that I don’t want to take.
A conversation next, beginning fine.
A pleasant talk that is quick to turn sour.
A turn for the worst, feeling sick to my stomach.
A kind of sick that makes you want to remove your organs.
A pressure of skull splitting proportions, radiating from one request.
A request that would bind my hands, gag my mouth and, I fear, render me voiceless.
Tomorrow.
A lingering dread.
A drained feeling.
A perception of failure.
A phone call.
Suggested Collections
I was pretty upset & frustrated yesterday, so I wrote this, & 
suggested I posted it, so here we are .u.b
I'm feeling a bit better, going off and on with that one though ORZ
Poem (C) K.N.D. (Those are my initials)
suggested I posted it, so here we are .u.bI'm feeling a bit better, going off and on with that one though ORZ
Poem (C) K.N.D. (Those are my initials)
© 2014 - 2024 KatTheNapper
Comments6
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This is so great stop being so good at poetry like. Who said it was fair??? For you to be this good? It's not.