Poetry Prompt № 1: A Storm

“The purpose of a storm is not punishment; it is to wash us clean.”

Source: Getty

It wasn’t like rain in my head;

more like a vast, untamable, unyielding

electrical storm.

When my eyes or head would shift

I felt a ZAP!

like lightning

only I could feel

or

being strapped

to an electric chair only I

could see, touch, and feel.

I could almost smell the burning flesh

after a storm, after the electricity

overheating every synapse and nerve

subjected to the brain zaps.

This is what living with migraine attacks

& being on antidepressants

— drug with zero immediate upside & every possible downside of street drugs like coke or heroin — is like:

The storm inside your head.