Ficly

Ill

Bits and pieces of not so clear liquid swirl in toilet water
evidence of foolish rebellion against the almighty white-coats
Sweat drips down the back of a raggedy t-shirt
sending a shiver to confuse the burning furnace up top
A desire to stand is countered by a wave of disorientation
culminating in my reacquaintance with the tiled floor
Could this day get any better?

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