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by Logan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2117019
The worst kind of man flu there is
Scarlet Fever

Burning through this fever
Still not burnt through yet
Wish I could just leave her
Wish I could forget
Clumsy times I've seen her
Stumbles, crossing paths
Seems it's always been her
I fumble every pass
Recovery positions
Procedures that I lack
Grounded indecisions
Still I fly right back
Like filings to a magnet
A moth unto a flame
Iron, rusty, stagnant
Getting burnt again
Third degree, scarred scarlet
Warming through the face
Past a rose red, star lit
The past's a tinted place
With guilty pleasures guarded
Vulnerabilities that itch
With tickets scratched, discarded
Fevered is the pitch
Running red, this freight train
Running silent, rolling deep
Cargo hauled through driving rain
Embargoes set too steep
As mercury keeps rising,
and alcohol, it climbs
Prognosis keeps surprising
The gauge is tracked and timed
As scarlet rails weave her
Turning redder looming still
Burning through this fever
Perhaps she always will
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