Three weeks of flu.... someone shoot me... arghhh!
Another day on auto pilot
The heart beats like a bass line
Toms in the ear drums
Another cough rises
Sharp as knives
Tearing the throat to shreds
Watering eyes,
Anguished sighs
It's just flu, I'm not dying
But my soul cries
Voiceless like a caged canary
A pianist with her fingers
Taped together, frustration
Tired of being ill
Oh so sick of being tired
Where is my health
That I took for granted?
Three weeks of bed hair
On my holiday,
And not the way I wanted!
Tissue rash beneath my nose
I'm resigned to poetry
Camphor blocks and throat drops
My only company
It may not be swine flu friends,
But it's still a pig of a thing!
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 546 times
Written on 2009-10-02 at 08:41
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Bed Bugs Bite
Another day on auto pilot
The heart beats like a bass line
Toms in the ear drums
Another cough rises
Sharp as knives
Tearing the throat to shreds
Watering eyes,
Anguished sighs
It's just flu, I'm not dying
But my soul cries
Voiceless like a caged canary
A pianist with her fingers
Taped together, frustration
Tired of being ill
Oh so sick of being tired
Where is my health
That I took for granted?
Three weeks of bed hair
On my holiday,
And not the way I wanted!
Tissue rash beneath my nose
I'm resigned to poetry
Camphor blocks and throat drops
My only company
It may not be swine flu friends,
But it's still a pig of a thing!
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 546 times
Written on 2009-10-02 at 08:41
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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