Every four hours I come to you.
You hear me sniffle with an occasional "ah-choo!"
My head is pounding, my throat is sore.
Puffy and pained eyes cry out, "No more!".
You give relief, ever so slight,
As I feel the drainage both day and night.
I hate feeling like I've been hit by a truck,
On a three day weekend, of course it's my luck.
I've managed some chores, though all quite mundane.
It's good to know I can function, that thought keeps me sane.
I want to just collapse and rest my heavy head.
Until I can buy myself a case of Sudafed!
(Pitiful attempt, but I'm tired!!)
Until next time....drain away!!
2 comments:
It's not the worst poem I've read
By a poet with boogers inside of her head.
It's rather impressive that she took the time
To hack, wheeze and blow, while continuing to rhyme.
I know how you feel; with a nose like mine,
Two Sudafed wouldn't do, I would need eight or nine!
And although you probably wish you were unconscience or in a coma,
At least your headache is not a tumor or, worse... a hematoma!
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