Illness: A Poem

Grace Battaglia, Editor in Chief

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Grace Battaglia, crying because of her throat pain. Photo by Grace Battaglia

 

Throbbing and pounding

all in my head.

The pain that I’m feeling

makes me feel dead.

My lymph node is big,

some might say swollen.

With one this fat

I could probably go bowlin’.

A tear slides down my cheek

because I now know my fate.

For the next five-and-a-half hours

the hospital is my date.

 

A sad girl at Choc on Homecoming day- definitely NOT going to Homecoming anymore. Photo by Grace Battaglia

Eww, the waiting room

germs are airborne.

People not covering their mouths

I look to them with scorn.

I finally get in.

Now I am diagnosed:

Chronic tonsillitis.

Man I really want pot roast,

but I can’t eat that

because I can hardly swallow.

Right now, I’m wishing

my throat was hollow.

Lucky for me,

this pain will go away.

Because my tonsils

I will betray.

The tonsil guillotine

will cut them out.

And I will once again

be able to eat sauerkraut.

Bye bye tonsils.

After all you’ve made me miss,

cutting you out will be

pure bliss.

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