Red Mist Of Pain Poem by Loreta Muskardin

Old Achilles, how I abhor your fate
You became famous for your tendon
I am aching in the red mist of gout pain.

Crystal needles pierce all my joints,
Explosive torture, red swollen anguish
I breathe soreness, my mind is a big blue bruise

Don’t approach me, don’t dare to touch!
I am red and inflamed with this violent torment.
Stabbed joints crying with a cracking sound
I am wrapped in coldness and want to forget
A sleepless tired man besieged in a
Cruel mist of a burning scarlet pain.