Sick of the Memories

I wake up to the ache, the churn inside my chest,

Like a tidal wave of ghosts that never let me rest.

The taste is bitter bile, memories come in waves,

Can’t outrun the past, I’m trapped in its cascade.

I try to hold it down, but it’s clawing at my throat,

The sickness of the moments that refuse to let me go.

It’s like nausea—rolling, spinning, crashing,

A flashback in my veins, relentless and thrashing.

I’m puking up the pain, can’t keep it inside,

The memories are poison that I can’t seem to hide.

Oh, I’m sick of the memories, but they won’t leave me be,

Every wave, every flash, they take another piece of me.

The floor is cold beneath me, I’m crawling just to stand,

Fighting with the shadows that grip me like quicksand.

I’m gagging on the voices that echo in my mind,

They’re screaming, “You can’t run; you’ll never leave behind.”

I try to breathe it out, but the air feels razor-thin,

The sickness is a cycle, and I’m trapped within its spin.

It’s like nausea—rolling, spinning, crashing,

A flashback in my veins, relentless and thrashing.

I’m puking up the pain, can’t keep it inside,

The memories are poison that I can’t seem to hide.

Oh, I’m sick of the memories, but they won’t leave me be,

Every wave, every flash, they take another piece of me.

It’s not just in my head; it’s sinking in my gut,

A visceral reaction to a door I can’t shut.

I scream into the silence, but it echoes back decay,

Will I ever find the cure to purge this pain away?

It’s like nausea—rolling, spinning, crashing,

A flashback in my veins, relentless and thrashing.

I’m puking up the pain, can’t keep it inside,

The memories are poison that I can’t seem to hide.

Oh, I’m sick of the memories, but they won’t leave me be,

Every wave, every flash, they take another piece of me.

I’m sick of the memories, sick of the fight,

But I’ll claw my way through every restless night.

The sickness won’t break me, though it pulls me down,

I’ll rise through the nausea, reclaim my ground.