Pneumonic Plight

I sit up all night,
Coughing away all my might,
Struggling to breathe properly,
Craving sleep, craving even a moment of peace.

I wonder how a simple cold
Ballooned into a pneumonic hold.
I feel strangled inside out,
As I feverishly struggle with the lout.

At least I know I will soon be cured.
Even if it is at times death I cheer.
I wonder how other survive,
Those worse off, how do they bear to strive?

I can only salute their spirit
And pray for their strength that they may never desist.


- Written on 28th December 2006
- Well pretty much self explanatory isn’t it? I am suffering from a nice black mood of self pity and martyr syndrome ;)