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Why do I cry?


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Why do I cry?

Is it the pain that makes me cry?

No, there are other reasons why.

Fear, despair and the chronic-ness of the pain.

Read on and I will explain.

Waking most mornings with a headache is no fun.

The pain rises long before the sun.

ItÂ’s not how I would like to start my day.

As the pain squashes all my desires to play.

When night comes and itÂ’s time for bed,

This is when clusters hunt for my head.

They pounce like an explosion in my eye.

The pain is so consuming, I cannot cry.

After the attack my body shudders and shakes,

Terror is dragging me to the bottom of a lake.

And this is when I can finally cry.

I cry and I cry and cannot stop, no matter how hard I try.

Migraines like to camp in my optic nerves.

They light a fire, for many days it burns.

Light, sound and movement cause agonizing pain.

It is as if my whole head were aflame.

Day in and day out it often seems.

Visits by these devils that make me scream.

Headaches, Migraines and Clusters, evils three.

But I try to not let the pain, define me.

I donÂ’t often write about the days IÂ’m pain free.

For my attention then turns away from me.

Life is, as I think is quite plain,

What happens between the pain.

I wish there was a solution to this plot.

But in my heart I fear there is not.

These devils shall be with me till I die,

And this, this is the reason why I cry.


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  • 4 weeks later...

Hugs. Wasn't my intention, but I'm glad you connected with it.

I did a little tweaking. Have been meaning to for awhile, just a word here and there.

If you like, I have a few more half decent poems I'd be happy to post. Not all are doom and gloom and about pain.


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Hugs. Wasn't my intention, but I'm glad you connected with it.

I did a little tweaking. Have been meaning to for awhile, just a word here and there.

If you like, I have a few more half decent poems I'd be happy to post. Not all are doom and gloom and about pain.


ofcoure post them I will be glad to read them you have a talent :)

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This is one of my favourites.

Can You Not See?

Can you not see?

There are two woman inside of me.

One is brave and strong,

To see the other you must look deep and long.

The first is the one the world does see.

She looks amazingly similar me.

She is the author, manager and boss.

Her heart is strong and she does not give a toss.

She stands tall and her skin is fare.

And she has beautiful, silky long hair.

She does not hurt or bleed.

In the face of adversity, she does not flee.

She is the one others call when in need.

She is always more than willing to please.

It even makes her happy to help when she can.

A taxi, a friend, someone to lend you a hand.

The other me I do not let many see.

Her heart is tender and meek.

She longs for another to hold her hand.

In adversity, to help her to stand.

Her heart easily bleeds.

And tears trickle down like beads.

Alone in bed she weeps,

Lost in a forest, dark and deep,

Will you hold her close, or get to know her name?

Will you do more than just play the game?

WonÂ’t anyone take the time to see?

The other women inside of me.


I used to live in an 18th century Hall out in the country. I had a 1/4 mile private drive,

it was very secluded, quiet and private. I wrote this one Saturday morning sitting in my

2-bedroom apartment (aka a Flat in the UK).

The Flat

This morning I sat, next to my window open wide.

Listening not to the noise of cars passing by.

Instead, many song birds whistled and sang.

In my ears their beautiful music rang.

I watched as squirrels bounded through the trees.

While sipping on my nice cup of tea.

In the distance I even glimpsed a deer.

This morning, I was reminded why I love living here.


This is one of my oldest poems, and is now a tattoo around my wrist.

I live my life in fantasy.

At times I gaze upon reality.

And in disbelief I ponder,

How to people live over yonder?


This last one is from many years ago when I was changing my gender.

I like it, but I don't share it often. I've come so far since I wrote this.

Dirge of the Damned

I am a woman, I am a man,

I am one of the damned.

Cursed to live between the genders,

Blessed with the wisdom that it renders.

My spirit is split in two,

And few see the world as I do.

You thought you knew me,

You have yet to meet me.

The Ferryman - I have paid,

Gold - blood and tears I gave.

The fake me is but a memory,

And the true me is now set free.

I become one that day,

Whole and no longer afraid.

With joy - I sing the Dirge of the Damned,

For I am no longer trapped as a man.


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when I read all this itl like a movie in my head and I cant even start to imagine going trou gender change and you got cluster :( I always ask my self why why me with this desease, but when I read all these stories almoust all others suffer even more when me I got periodic cluster (I hope still becouse it was 5 months already) others got chronic and others got harder longer atacks when me... I know its kind of messed up to say but it helps me to stay strong to know that I dont got it vorse. The  last poem was wery moving!

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  • 2 weeks later...

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