Sunday, July 19, 2009

Hyperemesis Poem

I’m getting it out I’m getting it out
Rage, scream, cry, tear, punch, shout
I need you to see
Oh, just need you to see
This isn’t the way it was supposed to be
the way—
I wanted
it
to be
The howls, my bowels the vomit and pain
My face in the toilet again and again
Food in and food out and when it was through
Up came my insides, and—
nobody knew
Locked in my house, crushed on the floor
Still up, up it came more—more!
Why didn’t they come
there was no rescue
there was just me and the floor and the bile
and yet you
did nothing
my misery, my torture I—
broken, weak helpless
No one could have cared—
less
And then they cut me

1 comments:

Diana J. said...

Very true. I'm hoping this is a poem of the past and not the present?