imgresI wonder why it is, when I feel like hell,

That I simply never sleep at all well.

It’s as if my body, when it aches,

Fills my slumber with endless breaks,

I wriggle, I squiggle, I toss, I turn,

My bones all drag, my muscles burn,

My shoulder thumps, and so does my head,

No comfort is found in my lovely bed.

The mattress feels like a switchback ride,

Undulating beneath my sore backside,

The pillow’s lumpy, the sheets give me grief,

There’s simply no getting a touch of relief.

Every bit of me feels like it’s heading south,

And something furry has died in my mouth.

And yes, it may seem like I’m being a diva,

But I swear that I’m running some sort of a fever,

It feels like I’m tackling a nuclear warhead,

That exploded just under a pulsating forehead.

I need a soothing compress applied to my brow,

To make me feel better than I do right now,

And although it is, possibly, what you may think,

I’ve had nary a drop of the hard stuff to drink!