Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Needle
I hate the needle in my arm,
Moving around, to hit the vein accurately
To draw my tainted blood,
To uncover some mysterious ailment.
Through the skin it pricks,
A wave of nausea overcomes me.
I'm briefly sedated
By fear,
But soon come to my senses
And, I just tremble.
I always expect the worst, but,
There is no “worst” to be had.
Yet.
I'm always gripped with
Some sensational, paralyzing fear.
It has no name,
It's always just there.
It's almost as appalling as the
Needle, searching for a vein.
But it has no name.
Medical science hasn't come that far.
April 20, 2005
Suge
Moving around, to hit the vein accurately
To draw my tainted blood,
To uncover some mysterious ailment.
Through the skin it pricks,
A wave of nausea overcomes me.
I'm briefly sedated
By fear,
But soon come to my senses
And, I just tremble.
I always expect the worst, but,
There is no “worst” to be had.
Yet.
I'm always gripped with
Some sensational, paralyzing fear.
It has no name,
It's always just there.
It's almost as appalling as the
Needle, searching for a vein.
But it has no name.
Medical science hasn't come that far.
April 20, 2005
Suge
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Needle
Needle
