Monster

I hack, cough, and struggle to find my air,

The burning in my chest and lungs is great,

I am consumed by a virus wreaking havoc on my system,

And you tiptoe around me as if I were the monster in the bed.

The way in which you walk on eggshells drives me insane.

Did this virus turn me into her?

Did somehow my virus awaken the devil that lives in half my DNA?

I begin to scream and yell because you behave as if I am the Queen of Painful accusations,

I just don't feel well,

I did not turn into a banshee overnight, demanding the souls of lost men who have taken their wives for granted,

But your scared animal routine around me drives me to the point of calling forth Cthulhu.

How could you treat me thus?

Can you see how it turns me into the monster you are trying to prevent from emerging?

I am not a bomb or demonic woman,

I AM SICK.

Why is everyone so scared of me?

I hate being sick, because for as long as I am,

People will treat me as if I were a ticking time bomb,

which means I am unsure which feels worse,

Being sick myself,

or having to watch everyone turn into fawning creatures because they think I might consume them.