A Malady

A sneeze no tissue could withstand.

Mucous run amok.

Now a mess in my hand.

Take a pill you say?

I must tell you doc,

Your feeble advice must go away.

Deluged by winter’s chill.

My breathing restricted,

As if running up a hill.

A malady of vicious ferocity,

I dare not venture into society.

I will take my pill, white, red,

Whatever.

A spray maybe.

I will sleep and feel better.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s