An ode to the supposedly ” ill ” person I work with.


So you’ve come to work with a cold
And by your overacting I’m told.
That we should be grateful you’re at work
As seemingly close to death you lurk.
But then you decide to rub it in and say,
” I don’t know how I made it in today !”
And I think, should this charade I condemn
While risking being covered in your phlegm.
I want to scream that you’re not ill
As your germs you seem to spill.
I long to shout out if you’re not well,
Why was it on me your sneeze spittle fell ?
But just to make your ” cold ” seem graver
You start to sound like an asthmatic Darth Vader.
Pausing only to gulp down cold remedies and pills
That should only be taken by the genuinely ill.
I think a change of sick policy is required
And that people like you should be attired.
In a germ warfare suit, it’s the only solution
To put an end to your supposed germ pollution.

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