Tremors

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Writhing as if I have something inside of me
Twisting my stomach and squeezing my heart
Gasping as if there is not enough air to breathe
What is this agony?
Is there no sympathy?

Crumpled and folded like drawings you wouldn’t keep
Wracked by these tremors infecting my limbs
Clinched in a fist like my fingers are weaponry
What is this agony?
Is there no sympathy?

I know that you will see much more composure
When this is over; if this is over
I know that we can be civil and sober
Once we recover; if we recover
Maybe the antidote lies undiscovered
Under these tremors; under these covers
Maybe in time we will find it together
But for tonight I am destined to suffer