The Cold: A Sonnet
By Caitlyn Byers
I hope I survive the alternating
runny and stuffed up nose, the red, sore nose,
the brain that can’t focus on anything,
thanks to the pills in the bottle that shows
a claim to be non-drowsy but it LIES!
And still my head is all stuffed up and I’m
falling asleep, dreaming of the demise
of whoever’s made my brain think “Bed time!”
So I cough and I hack and I choke as
I try to breath in but the catch in my
throat that is an uninvited guest says
“I’m here to stay” no matter what I try.
and plot what will happen when I take hold
of the idiot who gave me this cold.