Hypochondriac Poet

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I cannot write a poem.
I have the measles, I have the flu.
A broken nail.
Mad cow disease. Moo!
I have a migraine, a case of the pox.
My stomach feels like its tangled in knots.
I am diabetic.
I am deaf, I am blind.
My psychiatrist says I’ve all but lost my mind.
What’s that you say? Extra credit?
I think I’ll write a poem today.





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