Nerve

Raw and bruised, unrelenting thing.
Twenty microns across to carry such a sting.
It is there and it sits, bright, gleaming.
I cannot make the pain stop, for me or you.
I cannot compel the nerve, to stop screaming.
What good am I if I cannot help you?
What nerve have I while I cannot help myself?
So we sit the nerve screams,
as if it had something profound to say,
and we wait and hope,
maybe tomorrow is a quiet day.

 -o0o-