Advil Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Advil



Advil

The pen sits there bearing the name
(Name of pain killer)
As graves are supposed to be
(And visiting the sick)

Here I sit
Waiting for my turn
Supposedly relieved
Thankful I must be "You're not as bad."

But how can I?
When in fact
Their pain is weight on my head;
If not I am not selfish.

Thursday, August 14, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: conflict
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