Poetry Gives Me a Migraine.

Poetry gives me migraines.
I get a lot of migraines.
From stress, or hate.
Sleep helps numb the blinding, searing pain.
But it's only temporary.
It's always temporary.

Poetry gives me migraines.
It can be so confusing.
The need to 'buff up the words' with richer vocabulary.
It strains my mind,
Makes me think of all the pain of my part.
Why would I want to relive that?

Poetry gives me migraines.
The person I am closest to says it could be from those daunting memories of my darkest days.
Every night I fall restless into the holds of sleep comforted by the back of my eyelids.
Everyday I wake up to those burning, painful memories.

It's not poetry that gives me migraines.
No, it's remembering.