As I barricade myself
In a blanket fort,
While choking down
Buckley's
And NeoCitrans
And Fisherman's Friends,
I am left
In my own world
Of solitude,
Of coughing up my lungs,
And praying for my chest.
Naps are many,
But not of good quality.
I'm always tired,
And tired always.
I wish only
To beat this sickness
And be better,
Like I was before this all happened.
But,
I can't remember....
It feels like I've been
Sick
For so long....
Oh well,
Put the kettle on,
Fill the medicine cup
To the ten mL line,
And let me tip back
The concoction
That could only be described
As pure nasty.
Let me nap
And rest
And pray
That my sickness will leave me
Tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 1
PoetryRandom Poetry! This is just a cute selection of them. 😊 They're not necessarily in any particular order, they're just in the order of randomness! So *warning*: the emotions WILL fluctuate a lot!! And also *warning* possible profanity. STARTED: Marc...
