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by Cyndi
Rated: E · Poetry · Health · #2042237
This event happened during a time when I was in a coma from blood clots to my lungs.
Traces of pain,
coursing through my veins.
Tugging at tubes,
willing my arms to move.

Pushing a button,
unconscious of reaction.
Calming, soothing serum,
robbing me of all sensation.

Bright lights flicker,
shadowy figures roam, sicker.
Seeing but not seen,
Who are these lonely beings?

I do not understand,
madness quickly makes it's stand.
There, my mother sadly smiles,
then melts into figures lined for miles.

Weightless from my sleep,
pulling me farther into the deep.
I can not, will not go,
drifting back I see a figure far below.

A man, head bowed low,
he holds my hand, not letting go.
I smile at him,
Then once more I sleep within.

My madness locked away,
soundly asleep in the bed where I lay.
Knowing once more,
I will walk proudly beyond this door.

I passed through death alone,
to you I've come back home.
And that refusing to leave,
I now open my eyes and see.

I know death must wait,
his next call will come without debate.
Being cheated of his prize,
perhaps, next time I will perish and die.

Today won't be his day,
it is time for him to walk away.
Forgetting of me for a while,
sleeping now, I chase my dreams for miles.
© Copyright 2015 Cyndi (cyndihaltom02 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2042237-The-Madness-of-Morphine