Poetry-The Dark Ones

The Pain

The pain washes over me

A masive hand is gripping

Softly at first

But harder and harder

As if trying to squeeze the life from me

It gets more intense

I scream but no sound comes out

And my body is weighed down

Filled with lead, I cannot move

Slowly, very slowly, the pain loosens its grip

Starting at my fingertips

The lead leaves my body

I can breathe again

Can move again

And all I have to remind me

Is the feeling of pain ebbing away

I am filled with relief

The pain has gone

But it’s going to come back

It always does