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poem

PostPosted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 9:11 pm
by sweetleaf2
When sweetie went to the chemist,,
She was looking for something to try,
There were all kinds of colourful thingies,
prescriptions that promise the sky

lotions and potions,
packets and pills,
in rainbow colours,
for all kinds of ills,

but theres nothing for fibro,
no medicine pure,
no powders, no tablets,
no wonder cure.

she turns from the shelves, with a heavier heart,
she limps to the doorway, and makes to depart,
I wish I could tell you theres a happier end,
That she wont wake tomorrow with pain that wont mend.

But this is real life
No fairy tale,
She`ll wake in the morning
eyes smudged, face pale.