Arthur Iris

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Meet Arthur he is a pain..

Weather turns, pain returns, call me, Arthur, It is a pain.

Pelvic pain like bone china, cracked and weak, feel broken sometimes.

Up from bed is no joke, pain then starts, when I have awoke.

Knees are weak, synues and ligaments, capella and beneath, whinging, throbbing insessently.

Call me Itis Arthritis, bone twisted, I sit too low, hip joints go, too high, knee cap cries.

I go for walks, fearing I won't make it back, It is awful telling you this.

I am sat stock still writing this poem, praying for the hot sun, dark clouds bring pain.

Call me Arthur Itis, call me Ishmael, call me Spartacus, know this, I AM PAIN.

 

 


Submitted: June 12, 2020

© Copyright 2021 bloodman. All rights reserved.

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