On Epilepsy

It is very rare that people who have not experienced Epilepsy can comprehend what it is like. This poem was written years ago as my best attempt to explain just that, what having seizures is like.

I sit in school, trying to learn,

when it begins, my stomach does burn.

The oh so familiar taste begins,

and so my composure does thin.

I feel light headed, like I’m going to fall,

but here I am, sitting tall.

Trying to listen, trying to learn,

but I’m not normal, no matter my yearn.

I know what’s coming, I leave class,

I head to the nurse, and time does pass.

By this time the pain has begun,

a pain you don’t experience lest you are also one.

An epileptic just trying to live in this place,

where no one cares the importance to grace.

Eventually someone is called and I am home,

I stumble upstairs and begin to moan.

The final part of my burden begins,

I lay down and the pain wins.


I lay awake in my bed,

as it stabs a sword through my head.

Painkillers do nothing to ease,

sweet sweet sleep my only release.

Perhaps I’ll wake up and feel just fine,

perhaps I won’t, as this is a sign,

that far far worse is yet to come,

and then suddenly, I feel numb.

A sudden fear takes my mind,

I begin to panic, I can’t be confined.

I leap out of bed and onto the floor,

my head feels light as a stagger for the door.

A few minutes later I crawl back into bed,

cannot recall why I did that, just the pain in my head.

My stomach feels like it is about to upchuck,

but here we are, my stroke of luck.

Finally I am claimed by sweet sweet sleep,

but that is when it happens, the final leap.

I leap off an edge, and into the abyss,

 and nearly feel death’s sweet kiss.

Death stands before me, could take me with ease,

could take me now, as I start to seize.

Fall to the floor, limbs flailing,

someone calls the ambulance, before my mind starts failing.

At this point, I may never wake up,

but has been the same chance since I was a pup.

This time my luck wins again,

I wake up and scream, “The Pain!”

The worst pain I have ever to experience coursing through me,

it yet again I feel it, and bathe in my misery.

“Make it stop!” I scream,

“Do anything! Just end the pain!” I wish it were but a dream.

Eventually I am again claimed by my old friend,

sweet sweet sleep, always there in the end.

Hours later I wake up once more,

my memories gone by the score.

All I remember is the pain I have had,

the rest of my memories erased or forbad.

Eventually I recover and go back outside,

life as usual, no one knows the way I abide.

Just the kid who missed half the school year,

no one cares that my life did nearly tear.

I continue on as if nothing did occur,

but eventually, the cycle will recur.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed