Sickness Blues

The sickness is like a bully
who must steal what is yours.
Like a schemer who is fully
aware of unlocked doors.

The sniffles ride alongside him
as the wind does with rain,
conspiring evil on a whim,
to ruin your sunny days.

The sickness is just a mountain,
another one to climb.
On the other side a fountain,
one more day, you’ll be fine.

If I could do one thing for you,
any one thing at all,
you know I’d cure your sickness blues,
you could smile in the fall.


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