My hands and feet are as cold as ice. Not even gloves, socks, or blankets are nice.
My bread is covered in mould. My laundry has not one fold.
There’s no one here to keep me company. The T.V. died so there’s nothing to see.
There’s a terrible pounding in my head. I can only seem to lie in bed.
Is this my time? Is this it? Or maybe it’s just because I feel like s**t.