I use to go to bed with a headache
And when morning came it was still there,
Most of the times at night (in suffering) it kept me awake
I would scream, I would argue and I would swear.
I thought how could any man live with this type of pain,
Without wishing for death, or going insane.
I use to go to bed, but first I would say my prayers
Then for awhile I wouldn't say them at all,
Though I still had my worries and my cares
But, I didn't want to kneel, I wanted to be seen standing tall.
I knew that there would be a headache attacking me,
And I hated the discomfort and its agony.
I use to go to bed, peacefully and all alone
Oh how memorable and restful was my sleep,
With no headaches or fighting or even a knee bone
I then didn't count bullets, I only counted sheep.
Then I thought while in that loneliness that I needed a wife,
But, was that me speaking, or was it from my desolation and midlife.
I use to constantly wrestle with my demons
Nightly inflamed by a headache and by my struggle,
With worries and distress and also separate opinions
So, with her (my headache) I just gave up, I just decided to snuggle.
How far in hell (I thought) must be my decent,
To keep receiving this anguish and constant torment.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem