Convulsions

“I seem to myself, as in a dream,
An accidental guest in this dreadful body.”
― Anna Akhmatova

The sharp explosion
the metallic taste
in the back of her throat
the shivers and the convulsions
which shakes
her to the core

Lying helplessly on the floor
foaming at the mouth
on the same spot
where she stood before
strong and proud
this disease is ripping away
threads of sanity
from her fabric
slowly and violently
tearing her apart

She is hanging in the limbo
the pungent state
between the dreams and the reality
broken dreams are foaming
from her mouth
she is surrounded
by the people she loved
their faces distraught

A little whimper
groan or whisper in the night
sets a trigger
an alarm
a frenzy in the household
where everybody rush where she sleeps
to check her nimble state
her body so cold

Pain and fear have taken a new meaning
she is dragging her life
feet curled
hands clutched
left in the fetal position
weeping

Incessant gulping
of those damned pills
have rendered
the food tasteless
living a single day
of life with sanity
is a war
rendered useless

Going through the life
in constant fear
a battle with her
own deceiving mind
she has severed all the ties
in the fear of the
violent episodes
which rattles
and tortures her mind.

Living with a monster
taking refuge in your soul
cutting and ripping it apart
and
drilling holes

Gnarls and the gashes
and blood from the incessant
clutching of teeth,
leaves her trembled core
helpless
asking gods for the mercy
for sparing her soul.

Photo by Žygimantas Dukauskas on Unsplash

This post is in response to the daily prompt Froth