To my dearest assailant, the migraine

My only enemy, in fact. They have no name, no friends, no family, no morals, no empathy. Just me. I'm all they've needed for almost two years, and I'm all they'll ever need. That is why I am writing to them.

Here I stand young

On this hectic, heedless globe
Plucked from millions
To serve as a vessel
In your shining, spectral robe

Here I stand lost

My world in shifted hue
New day, new shade...
Old aches dull their sheen
When I wake to see you

Here I stand cross

These shapes heckle me
When in grasp, waft away
If touched, they fade
From glassy pond to rocky sea

Here I stand weak

Static to stagger,
Sketch madly on this brow
A masochist's dream
Just a slave to your dagger

Here I stand low

Head down, hope blown
At your knees, I beg and pray
My face, your mirror
So long that I am stone

Here I stand cold

Years and years
Blessings now bitter
Your laugh, great carnage
Grinds soft on sore ears

Here I stand on

'Til the end, reality
'Til the end, you looming stain
'Til the end, my mind and master
'Til the end, mortality