A Cold Sonnet

Shall I compare you to a razor blade
Every time I swallow my poor throat
Thou art a tempest I wish would bloody fade
Still I shall rest but a bit longer and gloat

You have appeared at a most inopportune time
And made me go to bed very early
My body feels like its in eternal decline
By chance I am also very smelly

But thou wont win this battle of the cold
Nor make the cheeky one late for school
Nor shall you invade my my body old
For I have Lemsip, strepsils and paracetamol you fool

So long as I can just about breathe, see and move
I'll get my ass out of bed and back into the working groove.