Hypochondriac

Wow, I haven't written in a long time.

You name it
I've got it
Cancer, shingles flu
My eyes are yellow
And I'm short of breath
And now I can't see you.

Stomach is swollen
And this mole is a bit funny
I think I'm losing hair
My bones are brittle
My nails are smelly
And you don't even care.

I think I'm coming down with something
It might just be the plague
Teeth are rotting
Lips are dry
Mind is pretty vague.

Now you're mocking
And calling me crazy
However it's not true
When I die from my diseases
The joke will be on you.

Author's Note

I think I finally overcame my writer's block.