Dear Stomach Virus

The outer encasement

became weak

and rigid with paralysis.

Drops of fever and sweat

rippling through its layers.

Creating delerium

deep in

its very core.

The soul within remained

undead.

Fervently spinning, aching.

Pushing against walls,

that fold it back

unto itself.

Trapped.

In a shell dripping in its heat

convulsing with frigidity.

Stagnant and vile.

Soon the fear creeps in

and the soul becomes

frozen and

the paralysis seeps

from the outside in.