Sickness and I

sickness and i are the oldest of friends.
i remember cold novembers' wracked with coughs and sweating from a fever's heat.
you'd think i'd be used to the familiar touch of disease but i forget.
the older i get the harder it gets to get over its affects.

bronchitis, sinus, flu, colds, allergies, and pneumonia revolve and evolve through me,
into me, around me, until i begin to wonder if death's the only hope i have left.
i try new doctors, new pills, new cure alls, but all i find is the same misery that leaves me dead inside.

the error is in my dna. my bad code has made me this way.
why bother to try when i'm doomed.
i dance around the truth holding one ailment close at a time.
miracles and prayers aren't here to be found, if Jesus saves he doesn't save me.

God used to speak to me when i was young.
i'd lay on a couch in the dark saying my childish prayers and crossing my heart.
my mother tucked me in too tight to move.
all the doctors told her i'd outgrow it all one day,
but after 40 years i grow doubtful that day will every come.

every time i leave the house new germs hitch a ride home with me.
sickness never leaves me alone.
i can count on it to visit when it pleases.
i'm well enough to forget how much it hurt, so it reminds me again how it rules me.
i should burn myself and all i own, but i'm sure the sickness would return.

yes, sickness and i are the oldest of friends!