Disease Will Be The Death Of Me Poem by Sierra Staten
Disease Will Be The Death Of Me
Covered in blisters, in stitches, in gauze;
Looking for an illness that might be the cause.
Skin paling, bones breaking, I'm falling apart;
'Tis a disease of the mind or disease of the heart?
Pricked by the needle, IV's running cold;
Remember to clean every object I hold.
My blood's getting thinner, my pressure getting high;
I wonder how long I have till I die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/20/2024 10:44:18 AM # 1.0.0.1119
