Poems about sickness, fever and death from illness by the poet Sun Shadow.
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SICK Sick. That’s how I am. It creeps up, That heaviness of drooping lids And scratching thoughts, Sucking at the back of your throat. Blue. That’s how I feel. It paints all, That deep colour of melancholy And longing sighs, Seeping out of your dried lips. Hot. That’s how I think. It burns out, That soldering of shallowness And vapouring words, Catching in the last gasp of your breath. Dead. That’s how I know. It stops now, That sensation of imagining And dreaming ideas, Glimmering on the distant shores of your mind. Forgotten. That’s how I die. It takes all, That restfulness of remembering And respecting whispers, Sounding ever softer to your deafened ears.