Poetry

Sickness

The cerebellum quakes
The body shakes
Heart beats quicken/
As you feel yourself sicken/
You feel like your soul was struck with a comet/
When your gut wrenches and you vomit/
One just cries out to be freed/
When their nose starts to bleed/
Why can’t symptoms like this be quick?/
Dammit I hate being sick!/

Poetic Ice

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