The Head of an Epileptic

a poem describing how I feel as I go through petit mal seizures

The Head of an Epileptic

Bodies, faces, eyes all around me, surrounding.

voices whisper, scream, shout, laugh, cry.

my hands shake, twitch as I walk by.

I stare in the distance, my mind becoming numb, dimming society’s sting.  

I snap to my body, flushing red.

Mortification fills my soul; I wish I could rush home and never leave the comfort of my bed.

no matter my diet, the pills i take,

fear coils in my stomach like a snake.

Apprehension choking me.

As I await the humiliation of another seizure.

For who truly understands an epileptic but another epileptic?