I have a key to my room
which feels like a jail cell
I an confined
Locked down
Because of my situation
Day to day
Waking up to pastel green walls
and a white ceiling
Closest thing to family
Sleeping adjacent in a crib my baby boy .
And oh boy !
He has no clue,
What is going on
Pressure 220/216
218/80
136/80
Swollen feet
36 over night pads
In less than a month
Hemorrhoids
Toilet bowl
All I see is blood
Plop! Plop! Plop!
All that drop are blood clots !
Stiff neck
Back spasms
Alcohol but where's the vicks and hourly tears are parts of my pain
I endure during this sacrifice
YOU ARE READING
My Tongue Is A Pen Of A Ready Writer
PoetryHere are a collection of poetry I have written within my teenage years, early adult life . I hope you all enjoy.