Synthetic Plague

This day exact I am unsure
Body growing ever more unpure
My head, it fills with pain
My gut, it feels a flame
Too uncomfortable to slumber
Too confused to fight this cumber
A simple breath brings nothing woe
My desire to fight is beginning to slow
I beg of you not to weep
The time is now for my last sleep
I can no longer fight this strife
I surrender to Death this my life