Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
My friends a hypochondriac,
doctor twice a week.
He looks so strong and burly,
but feels so sick and meek.

He heard there is a cure out there,
that heals what ails him so.
I just don't have the heart to tell him,
he's taking a placebo.

My friend is big and mighty,
and the sugar pills do work.
He says he's never sick now,
no aches, and nothing hurts.

I'm happy for him, really,
though I wish he'd known much sooner,
that sugar pills have what it takes,
to heal the kids of boomers.

Our parents taught us to be weary,
as they had had no means,
to heal themselves in the time of war,
when they were all just teens.

But times have changed, and we can now,
heal most every sickness.
But still there are hypochondriacs,
needing sugar to cure weakness.
Sarah Rodriguez
Written by
Sarah Rodriguez  Southern California
(Southern California)   
2.4k
   Jeffrey Battistoni
Please log in to view and add comments on poems