Rotting By Illness
What good is my being when I cant be myself.
The only thing i am good at I cant deliver rap.
A virus shredded my skin and dwelled deep within.
And all am doing is rotting on my remains.
My throat can't empower my words
My mind cant think 'em
My eyes get blurry every single time i blink' em
Lying in my bed as a dying rotting carcass
I am choking my lungs on my own putrefaction
I rise each day picking my body's every fraction
But i cant seem to find even with floor any attraction
My head cant balance my body on floor
I fall on to grapple every nearing door
My feet dont agree to take me to door
It's not my throat anymore but stomach that roars
No matter how much i bathe no matter how much i scrub, rotting things can't get rid of their odour.
I feel like a zombie, bed is my grave and am rotting in my own living remains
Copyright © Sagar Chaturvedi | Year Posted 2017
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