Another Parkinson’s Sonnet

fickle fates 1 (3)

You lived a rich life; couldn’t ask for more –
Then whoa! The fickle Fates cry out, “Hey, you!
Just wait until ya see what we’ve in store –
A sickness that’ll zap ya through and through!
You’ll limp just like them crippled dwarves who dwell
In mucky, pus-filled swamplands, ever gory!
Your nightmares and anxieties will swell
‘Til paranoiac fear’s your final story!
Your legs’ll cramp, your arms tremble and twist;
Your drool will drench your chin, your chest, your floors –
Your hapless husband won’t want to be kissed
Because you’ll stink of piss and shit-stained drawers!”
I listen to their evil, gleeful curse,
Then shout right back, “Fuck you!  It could be worse!”

– Bruce Ballard

swamp troll 4 (2)

To read other sonnets I’ve written, click here, here and here.

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