May 22, 2008
“I cannot go to school today.”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
It’s the flu, which I got from you.
I’m sitting here spitting up glue.
Palms are sweaty, can’t see so good.
The cold is so misunderstood.
My throats on fire, and so I’m mute.
I just want to give it the boot.
My head feels like a lead balloon.
I hope that I get better soon.
Face on fire, I think I’m melting.
My stomach is really pelting.
My fever is getting higher.
I feel like a blown out tire.
My leg is bruised, my toes are numb.
I can not even taste my gun.
My brain is drugged, I can’t think
It is even hard to take a drink.

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