The Sunset Poet

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Sickness Comes

Sickness comes in like a pest,

The ailing and pain were surprising quick,

I shudder to think what it intends,

To bring me down or make me ponder,

Of happy days and how I did live,

I'm stuck here as I nurse myself,

It brings out the worst in me,

Because I want to lay and sleep away,

I'm wondering why I'm sick today.

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