Migraines (Or, This Is Why I Am Not A Poet)

To the tune of Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel:

Hello, migraine, my old friend. 

You've come to hobble me again. 

Vicious headache, softly creeping. 

Gripped my skull while I was sleeping. 

And the nausea, always traveling with the pain

Still remains.

And keeps me in the thrall of Migraine

Wracked by pain, I lay alone

No one can hear my woeful moans. 

I've become sensitive to light and sound

As the throbbing in my skull still pounds.

I have taken all the meds that I can take

And hope to wake

And to escape from the grasp of this migraine. 

Then the nausea starts to wane;

I start to feel whole again. 

And my vision starts to clear at last

Desperately hoping that the worst has passed.

My limbs are shaking, from the drugs that clear my head. 

Glad I'm not dead. 

I've barely overcome this migraine.