The pain I feel may be my own

It's five in the morning
I've been asleep and awake
With feverish dreams
And yeah, this is another post about pain, my pain
So just move on along if ...
It gets a little worse every day, every night
It burns like a mother fucker
And if not for the tylenol and the heating pad
And her
I'd be making this post every night
Tonight was really bad, maybe the worse
I hurt so bad I thought I might puke
It comes in waves
And I still might puke
But you know
Sitting here
With the light on
Typing, thinking, writing
It doesn't seem quite as bad
I'm just sore, and scared, and tired
Yeah, scared, I thought I could sneak that in without noticing it
But I caught it
And I am scared, big deal
But just writing
I don't know
Just writing makes it hurt not quite so much
Or is this just another of my feverish dreams