Some Days Are Bad Days

Forty milligrams of Cyclobenzaprine moving slow
Muscles still knotted, sheathed in concertina wire

Forty more of that nasty and mean Hydrocodone
Nerves sparking static, giving broken signals of pain

Thirteen hundred of Acetaminophen sitting below
Joints locked tight, rusted and stuck broken hinges

Thirty milligrams of Meloxicam and nothing to show
Bent nearly double, shuffling about only as needed

TENS blasts voltage in shredded nerves like an arrow
Only crawling buzz, nothing is shocking loose here

Stretches and exercises that every day I undergo
Only hurt now, and fail to break the cramped shell

All the medical edges I have against pain's red glow
All for naught, all but useless on one of the bad days