Whooping Cough

This day it lasts forever. I'm keen to see it go,
But the clock it has its own joke, and moves so very slow.
I'm waiting for the sun to set, for evening to slide by,
For night to pass, sun to rise, choke and try not to die.
Yesterday I thought the same and tomorrow I will too
There's nothing that can help me and nothing you can do.
If soil was called exhaustion then this tree is buried deep
Unable to escape from the inability to sleep
Each evening is approached with a sense of resigned dread
For the hell i'm about to enter previously called bed
In violent fits of coughing, all my muscles heave.
With fearful eyes bulging, I desperately try to breathe.
Morning greets a zombie, with only one positive
Another day has passed by that I won't have to relive.

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