Fallen Ill Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Fallen Ill
Fallen ill
Hard are coughs
ears blocked
eyes blind
cannot sit
cannot walk
best I think, is to die.
thought of this raises: "How? "
raises: "Where? " questions: "Why? "
come dreams, thoughts fly at such time,
imagine the format of these words being me, it is I,
swollen is the head, body thin, it is weak, low's outsized.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: sickness
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5/5/2024 8:53:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
