pathogens, a sonnet

Pathogens, the bane of my existence,
Lurk ‘round every corner in open air
Ready to invade at any instance
When my weak immune system is laid bare.
These viral pests that leave my body ill,
Are in my blood, my cells, and DNA,
It gives those viruses a twisted thrill
To come inside and take my health away.
No, I refuse to suffer anymore,
I have an immune system after all,
So, germy sickos, hear my phlegmy roar,
And let my antibodies heed my call!
For, Virus, you are naught but Common Cold,
I think it’s time for you to fucking fold.
(Blowing my nose is getting fucking old).

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