The Waiting

Mucus covered napkins
That look like Rorschach tests.
Waking out of a dead sleep
To the sound of your own coughing.
The thermostat must be on the fritz,
Or is it just me?
I’m sick of this bed,
Normally a safe haven,
Now just a prison cell.
I can’t sleep for trying,
I can’t find the strength
Inside these creaky bones.
I just want this to end,
To be superhuman and live
My life on my terms.

But I know I should rest.
I should drink fluids.
I should be good in a few days.
I just hate
The waiting.

3 thoughts on “The Waiting”

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