Something wrong is growing inside me
I do not know what to call it
Some days it feels like a thought,
curling itself around my ribs...
squeezing until breathing becomes something
I now have to remember.
it feels like a fever
My bones ache with things unnamed
My hands shake, chest aches
Stomach turns against me in an imaginary war
My heart forgets rhythm, racing as though
It knows something I do not.
YOU'RE IMAGINING IT
Touching my forehead, wondering if the heat is real
trying to locate the sickness.
Is it simply a thought that has learnt to become a symptom?
i cannot tell anymore.
Sometimes I wish there was a wound, a scar, blood...
The proof that i am not making it up,
the proof that it is not in my head...
For a sickness with a name is far, far better
Than one without.
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Author:
R.W (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2026 04:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments1
Wow! How true a name gives a target a possible cure. The nameless hide in shadows of doubt not knowing if they are real or imagined, monsters of childhood hiding in a closet or under the bed. Very nicely done.
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