Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground.

For a Struggle has no Value, should it teach nothing.

In the Beginning, all was normal.

All was at peace.

All was changed, when i was no longer myself.

Men of healing bore Harrowing news.

He will either die, or live with damages.

There was no median.

Yet all hope was not lost.

28 days and 27 nights i've spent in Hell.

Though i will fear no evil.

Whether inside nor external.

Memory has yet to reunite.

As senses continue to fail.

Progress is at last attained.

Bright was the sun, Glorious was the morning.



Guide that inspired this poem: 



This work was based off of  my 28 day trip to San Antonio Community Hopsital in Upland California. I wrote it to come to terms with how I took in my situation with a very rare and serious brain disease called Enchephalitis, which manifested from Spinal Meningitus. I hope it is enjoyed by many.


wrote this work due to my trip to the hostiptal for spinal meningitis.



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