Footsteps, passing through the corridor
The clock, irritating her
As she rises when her name is called
Waiting, in a white room
Waiting, for the dreaded news
Eavesdropping to conversations between doctors,
All bewildered
Her chest feels like it is about to erupt,
All because of unease
Little did she know, there was nothing wrong
She was fine, yet her mind disagreed,
and forced her to make countless
Appointments,
The lady we all know as
A hypochondriac