SickA Poem by The Poet of Black WingsI f*****g hate colds :l
Hacking,
Spitting, Choking on your own bile. Leaking fluid. Heavy in your chest, Cracks in your lungs, Torment all over. Your body weak And mind muddled. Everything you do Constricted, Difficult. Breathing and Even sleep, Laboured tasks. Damnedable virus, Existing soley To spread itself And misery. © 2016 The Poet of Black Wings |
StatsAuthorThe Poet of Black WingsAbouti hope my poems, among other writings, will speak for me. Edit - Full disclosure, if you ask me to read something, I will, and I'll be brutally honest about what I think about it. So, be ready for .. more..Writing
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