Sick-bed Rant

Diagnosis: flu. I hate being sick.
Every muscle aches, nerve-endings stretched taut,
A mask of pain across my cheeks, my throat
On fire with pins. This sucks. What happened to
My holiday? I had plans, things to do,
Places to go, books to read, friends to see.
Instead I'm stuck, here on the couch, dream-ridden,
Lethargic, my sinuses an aching mass
Of snot. Do you wonder that I'm pissed off?
At least this year it's just the flu. Last year
I wrecked our car on the ice. Some luck, eh?

Still working on those iambic pentameters.

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F.B.

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