Eating out is a nightmare
as every meal dissolves
into a food poisoning scare.

Riding the merry-go-round
is a disaster, your claim of being allergic
to horses forces them to shut it down.

Google is your friend,
symptom searches are endless
whether they're real or pretend.

While reading this poem
you begin to feel a bit worse for wear,
wishing you were in bed at home.

Headache?
Brain tumor is your answer.
Sore throat?
It's probably cancer.

You're not sure if your back hurts
or your kidneys are failing,
neurotic to a fault
you call in sick to your own wedding.

You even press for a second opinion
to see if it's serious,
nonetheless, we do wish you a speedy
recovery from your imaginary illness.