Fleeting Thoughts About Romanticizing Illness

Angry thoughts as of late

I am not a sad love song,

Or the words you used wrong,

My mind is not a devious plan,

For attracting and luring in a man,

I am not a poetic child,

With eyes clouded, meagre and mild,

My voice does not echo across valleys, bold,

I have no inner beauty to behold,

My illness is not at all beautiful,

Now, get these words through your thick skull:

You are a disgusting, ungrateful prick,

And your attitude makes me sick.