Head layed back on the floor,
Staring up at the ceiling...
The faucet drips slowly,
As the clock spits clicks...
The carpet softly turns into,
Pinpricks,
Making you squirm as you lay there...
Incapacitated...
Your stomach churns,
You wait for it to pass,
But it doesn't...
Every limb seems to disconnect itself,
From your body...
Slowly breaking down...
A tear slips down your cheek,
But even crying,
Causes your body to internally cringe...
Be soon this will pass...
Like another day...
Your sick now,
But you'll get better...
Everything always does...

Doesn't it?