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I Told You I Was Ill

I'm lying on a cold wet slab,
I seem unable to breathe,
Is it because I smoked too much?
That thought just makes me seethe.

The pathologist said as he went in,
The cause of death I think,
Is the fact this guy smoked far too much?
He also enjoyed his drink.

I'm trying my best to answer back,
I want to make it clear,
That what he's saying is rubbish,
I should not be lying here.

I've never felt like this before,
Could someone tell me why?
Is it something that I've said?
I didn't ask to die.

The last thing I remember was,
Sipping whisky and having a smoke,
As I inhaled my cigarette,
I started to bloody choke.

As I stood up to clear my throat,
My chest felt really sore,
I careered at speed across the room,
Then landed on the floor

I then looked down upon myself,
As I lay flat on my back,
The people all around me said,
Of breath there is a lack.

As my relatives stand over me,
They're saying I look quite void,
What do they expect of me,
To be looking overjoyed.

One of them said he's now at peace,
He's looking really well,
I'm dead you stupid imbecile,
I hope you rot in hell.

I cannot move my arms or legs,
I'm feeling pretty rigid,
My wife is telling all out loud,
I told you he was frigid.

One thing I'll always remember,
Since I first learned to speak,
I warned them all I wasn't well,
How I always felt quite weak.

But they just used to say to me,
Stop walking with that limp,
There's nothing really wrong with you,
You're just a bloody wimp.

I overheard the doc one day,
He made a sick wisecrack,
He told my parents I wasn't ill,
I was a hypochondriac.

Now what they are trying to imply,
Has put me in a rage,
It wasn't just the smoke and drink,
They're saying it was my age.

If that really was the truth,
I'd be the first to say that's fine,
But they're all talking nonsense,
I was only ninety-nine.

The undertakers are walking in,
With what I've to be carried off in,
How dare my relatives say to them?
Oh it ‘s such a lovely coffin.

If it's such a beautiful piece,
Then in it they can hop,
If they give me back my life on earth,
Then I will gladly swap.

I've always said I was unwell,
But that's now a bitter pill,
If I could talk I'd shout out loud,

‘'I Told You I Was Ill''.

poem by Bri Mar
Added by Poetry Lover
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