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It started off like lava on my back, my fever.

Trickling down as I felt like a cat, coughing up hairballs.

I could feel phantom hair come up, but it wasn't really there.

My throat tickling, my teeth grinding, but no appetite.


I couldn't eat , I wasn't hungry but when I tasted food,

It was bland and so my diet was just liquid.

My poor ribs and lungs, I had coughed so much.

It felt as though my body truly transformed,

And I was some strange werewolf.


Food became important again and I could eat a little.

But I had coughed and coughed, still feeling phantom hair in my throat.

Sometimes my body was weak and yet I made it through.

The sickness made me feel helpless, as I cried for long lost loved ones.

It reminded me of every terrible nightmare thing that had happened to me.


I don't regret it, making a choice being stronger, for the umpteenth time.

I called my brother who called my mother and we finally spoke after several years.

For now we put aside our differences, but I know exactly what she is.

I am her daughter, she's my mother and deep down I still love her.


Covid had hurt my body like no human had before.

Helpless isn't how I feel anymore, for I realize I am not, my perception only felt it temporarily.

The hair was the worst feeling, for my personal reasons.

I hope I never catch this again, coughing up hairballs of my own phantom hair.

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