They loom to strike,
Hidden from unsuspecting eyes-
Merged with the dust,
Carried by the wind.
Life of an innocent disrupts
As the body fails,
Possesed by them.
They grow, rejoice,
As appetite dies a slow death,
And nose runs like a river.
Random sneeze attacks
Trembles the body,
Until the warrior in white
Comes to rescue the Fallen
With tasteless concoctions,
And a sharp syringe in hand.
The Fallen regains strength.
The body fights from within.
Sneezing stops.
Runny nose flows no more.
Appetite reignites from
Hot chicken stew.
Their number dwindle.
The last one standing flees
But promises to return one day.
But till then,
It will settle for another innocent-
A weaker, careless one-
For a new army
And an old cause.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote a poem about germs and flu because... Why not, eh? 😆
The warrior in white is... You probably already know who.
While I wrote it, I'd been suffering the flu. So yeah... That's it.
