Fingers wither right when they started to slither
A tongue ready about to sung gets a stung and turns into a lump down the throat and forces a patter in the lung
Eyes cry and quickly dry as if to put on a disguise
The tunnel to the brain turns to a funnel from the pain; bundling all the thoughts again
A mental blister getting crisper being forced from a boil to simmer, sending the body into a shiver and after letting out a whisper
I won't write about that today