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Writer's pictureKev Crean

Stomach problems.

The ache,

Deep in the pit of me,

My stomach begins to tear,

Cracking open, ripping through,

Ulcerating a hole.


Seeping out,

Spilling within,

Spreading through life,

Consuming with pain.


To wake is to ache,

To sleep is to breathe,

Days dragging on,

The bile lingers, waiting.


Esomeprazole to fix,

What cider did break,

The fire, the burn, the blanket of woe,

To soothe is to smile, to smile is to live.


Endlessly popping,

The red magic pill,

My pain you subside,

But only for a while.

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