An amateur word-picture, just for fun–though the experience certainly was not.


They turned me into a sickly sun set high above the earth

I scorched everything I touched

Blistered that desert

Heartbeats and mustangs gone loco together

And I could not tell the cowboys guns

From the pounding

And the pounding in my head


They turned me into an arctic plain

And icy winds played over me

Numb and barren and throbbing

The freezing and thawing, the cracking

Pain in my back, my legs, my teeth

And the pounding

And the pounding in my head


They buried me in oblivion

For hours I hardly woke

Except to ask for water and medicine

They cannot make me forget

The one who carries the pain of the world

Who heals the pounding

And the pounding

Oh the pounding

Healed the pounding

And the pounding in my head.

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9 years ago

Ugh. Sorry!
The poem though? Yes, aptly put! ๐Ÿ˜€

9 years ago

I think Poe would like that repetitive pounding bit at the end.

9 years ago

Me like!

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