Chronic fatigue syndrome is a state of profound fatigue that is not improved by bed rest and that may get worse with physical or mental activity. This fatigue significantly interferes with daily activities and work.
I have that syndrome.
My name is...
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There once was a man with rosy red cheeks, The kind that laughs before anyone speaks. He had dark grey hair right down to his chin, A jolly old soul that hated to fit in. His eyes were grey and green, all rolled into one, Whenever he was passionate, they simply shone.
But, one day, he got some news, Caused by years of smoking and drowning in booze. One year to live, that's what they told him, And so we watched the end of his life begin.
I watched him as he became quiet and weak, No wise jokes to be told, nothing left to speak. I watched him as he just withered away, 'Til his life was lost, on one Autumn's day.
There once was a man with rosy red cheeks, His body was buried and, over the weeks, Worms and creatures, or so they say, Crept onto his body and carried him away, Through wild bushes, both great and small, His soul traveled with them, floating through it all.
I'm told, when he died, an apple tree bloomed, One so beautiful and perfectly groomed. The apples remind me of him, and it helps To keep away Grief's heavy shouting and yelps, For when I stare at that Apple Tree now, I know that he's with me, somewhere; somehow.
