On The End Of A Spring

Once the wire was coiled
Turn after turn after turn
My churning stomach
Tied in knots

Sprung like the hinge on a door
The sickness came, in a rush
Overpowered my tangled mind

Sharp was the pain as my
Thoughts spit forth
Like the recoil of a gun
Vibrates a hand

The bullet went straight through
As would the sharp end of the spring

Copyright Denise A White