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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

I'm icy cold. Inside, outside,

there is no difference now.

I've kept you pushed away

as breath is forced from

ragged to smooth.

Easy now.

My grip eases as a

shallow breath flows

gently through, giving me

one moment of peace before

I pay for inattention.

My grip has eased. Now

icicle tendrils twine through

my aching chest, still

quivering from spasms,

and again I begin to cough.

Posted

Well that ain't good. Erm... the bronchitis, not the poem. The poem was quite good.

 

Shuffle yerself off ta bed, or the doctor, or both, or either! Or something!

 

*falls on his face*

 

Don't make me come down there. I *will* bring soup.

 

:P

Posted

heh.. been to the doc, got more antibiotics and my inhalers upped again, and am being kicked upstairs to the specialist.

the verdict - i'll live, the pneumonia's cleared.

*huggles*

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