The Green Stuff

Coughs and wheezes
for hours on end
Eyes blurred, nose clogged,
sleep is no friend

Breaths deep and labored
tissues scattered about
Day would be better
if it could be hacked out

Since childhood, this is how
it has always been
She’s not alone, she’s knows
other women, men

Those who detest, despise,
abhor the putrid stuff
That would end the mis’ry
when enough is enough

Pushed to the limit
Can’t take another night
Has to find her sleep
Is left with no more fight

She pours the unnatural green
into a tiny cup
Holds her nose, says a prayer and
surrenders. Bottoms up!

April 19th
Prompt: Write a Taste Poem

(Been a rough week. Playing catch up today.)

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