Poem #1677

Sickness

To be sick, who has the time?
Why can’t we always be at our prime?

It hurts creativity and our ability to work,
Being sick drives me berserk!

All that time wasted stuck in a bed,
When I could have been productive instead,

Sleeping away days is something I hate,
Why is sickness part of our inevitable fate?

The world would be a better place,
If sickness went away without a trace,

Its effects on the body can be devastating,
And its inconvenience frustrating!

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