In the quietness of the dark
In the quietness of my room
In the quiet of my pain
I transmute my tragedies
Would that God would build me an ark
Would to God I was back in the womb
God, would you please release this cosmic brain
And I will transmute my tragedies from there
Oh, shining light who knows no chasm
My feeble legs are given to spasm
I kick and I roll and cannot sleep
Head throbbing, bladder thumping, I rise twice an hour
Wrapped in a weighted heating pad and hanging on to hope
This is me writing trying to cope
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