The Infection

Tue, 01/12/2016 - 14:36 -- Murdoch

How it starts, I do not know.

It cannot be stopped or weeded;

It cannot be helped or treated;

There is no cure, it will only grow.

It starts in the mind,

Way in the back, hiding

Subconscious thoughts is what it finds.

Hibernating and biding

It is crippled and blind.

Don’t let it take over, it corrupts

It floods your mind, it erupts!

Stop the madness before it takes shape,

Once it is formed, it is already too late.

You might as well relax and accept your fate.

It starts in the brain, sickening as it is.

It takes over your throat; a tingling fizz;

It makes you dizzy; it makes you fuzzy;

Numbness spreading over, a creeping sensation

Grabbing you by the spine it takes over your nerves.

Spreading through your organs; inflation.

Feeling light headed yet you can’t feel the curves.

The monster spreads inside, you are forced to abide!

You transform before your very eyes.

The pain is intense; yet the numbness you despise!

Sick to your stomach you are stuck on this ride.

A monster within, you rather tear it out.

You’d rather die, or even just pout.

But you cannot move it’s all too late.

The most unbearable torture is your fate.

Let your soul float on; your body is useless.

Don’t struggle your effort is pointless;

Soon you’ll find that life is just meaningless.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
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