I am missing my chances
Trapped by the microbial prison, held by viral intrigue.
The sickness fills me with dread
Each breath hurts, each cough, moves a lung.
A nose running marathons in my head
I am miserable
The worst part though is not the physical
but rather, the realization of what this has cost me.
What works had been forfeit
What plans had been put aside
What lovers rendezvous had been cancelled
It is these, not the quality of life, but the quality of life missed which hurts more
The chance to make amends, to relive what has been lost, that will make the mere physical discomfort
The trials of biological attack more than bearable.
For what is worse than the pain of a lost dream?
The pain of thinking what could have been
What had been taken by fate
What is gone by no fault of your own.
The ghosts of what could have been stay with you longer than the most entrenched microbe,
The pain of missed chances, can scar a lifetime of success.