Infelicitous Poem by J Sheba Anandhi
Infelicitous
A not much used little finger,
Inflammation has given it a red colour,
The anti-inflammatory medicine
Has pushed down the inflammation
Giving a look of a plump finger,
Whether this is genic or chronic
There is no saying yet, it is all ironic
To someone who wants to be felicitous,
Even though the self is mostly stoic
There's no stop to feeling infelicitous.
Monday, December 4, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: disease,sadness,self
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7/25/2025 9:43:08 PM # 1.0.0
