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I am sick, but where did it start?
At school or cross coutry, maybe even church.
Or maybe it started with my sister...
But who cares?

My friend had swine flu,
Another's girlfriend succomed.
Could it be the h1n1
That runs through my veins?

I've been continuing life as it is,
Thinking it was a cold.
Or maybe I knew all along,
And was unwilling to face the truth.

After a week it's lessened none,
My body now shakes with the effort to stand.
My head is pounding,
But what is inside?

My powerful leg aquavers,
My tiny body quakes.
Each constant cough and spasm
Sends pain from-head-to-toe.

Life goes on regardless,
I know not how many my victims are.
The cause of my conflicts solidifies
The steam of avoided knowledge in my thoughts.

I finally tell my closest friend,
Who has already endured the worst.
He filled me with guilt
For how many deaths I may cause.

The battle between fear and integrity
Must have been warred in my eyes,
The colorless blood staining
The everchanging colors.

The battlefields are dry and crisp,
Faint lines of torture still visible.
The cause of my fear
Is my own mother's threats.

Threatened to do my best in school,
I can't afford to miss a day.
Yet my friend guilts me into staying away,
My integrity winning at what cost?

My powerful leg quavers,
My tiny body quakes.
But how much of this is sickness,
And how much pain?

As if this crushing, suffocating feeling,
Tearing at my heart and my head,
Blinding me with emotion and grief,
Isn't enough to break me down...

One I called my "friend" doesn't care to reply.
My life could be taken, his nightmare fulfilled,
Or was it a nightmare he described,
If now he shows no concern?

He's probably distracted, yet again,
By the only thing that he seems to value.
His attraction to the opposite gender disgusts me,
All the while he only cares for himself.

The anger... The rage...
Must it be another element in the mixture,
Another item in the blender,
More death of the joy I felt?

The anger I felt was only a second,
No more, no longer could it survive.
Far too overpowered, it was,
By this sickening guilt.

Suffering is what brought me joy,
But now no joy can be found.
After all, how can I feel anything but guilt
When both options are wrong?

My powerful leg quavers,
My tiny body quakes.
But how much of this is sickness,
And how much pain?