Every Six Hours

In the agony of silent suffering the eyes sometimes deceive;
What lies behind is hard to find, for it is inside they grieve.
Dark clouds are overhead;
The sun is held back behind a heavy grey veil:

They gasp for air but cannot inhale;
They gasp for air but cannot inhale;

With the commencing of dark rain, they start to wail;
In torturous sounds that thunder can’t drown, they start to wail.
Two small yellow pills, and one half a cup of water to take away the pain.
Two small yellow pills and then forty minutes later, a deep inhale.

A euphoric inhale;

Six hours later, two more pills to exercise the demons and cure the ills.
Another six hours, and after a shower … before tears spill.
If only blissful dreams could wash away the silent screams.
In the early hours, to dull the pain, sometimes they scream.

At 6 am, sometimes they scream.