Today I had a battle, but not the normal kind
This battle was with sickness in the corners of my mind.
It blasted with a headache; it ripped me in the gut.
It wondered was I ready to blithely “give it up?”
I knew where this was leading; you give that thing an inch
T’will grasp you round the throat in a wretched wrestler’s clinch.
I buckled on my armour and grasped my heavy sword,
And sent an urgent message to him o’er all is Lord.
To deal with this intruder you must not let him in
Even with his snide reply, “Well sickness gets you thin!”
You cannot give an inch to him, let doubt fly through the door,
For if you’re sick a little bit t’will quickly turn to more.
I summoned up my courage (it is the easy way).
With verse in hand, I hit him back. It always pays to pray.
And now I’m feeling better (though still a mite beset.)
The sickness isn’t mortal. I’ll get him back you bet!