To Those Without Migraines

To Those Without Migraines

Tiny pinpricks, flashes of light

Fireworks that refuse to fade

Heavy eyelids, twitching faces

Seek refuge in the shade

A throbbing, pulsing, stabbing, piercing

Slashing through the brain

Tiny inner tubes of white

Slide down throats to mask the pain

Minutes pass like hours, hours pass like days

Foggy eyes, weak limbs and sighs

Weeks spent in a haze

Food that creeps back up a throat

Lies waiting for release

Voiding mouths becomes a thrill

In hopes that pain will cease

Darkness, silence, steady, still

No smells or sights allowed

A simple clock, footstep, or knock

Makes every neuron pound

Cold, then hot, then cold, then hot

Then freezing once again

Masks on eyes, clutching sheets

Praying for an end