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More ubiquitous than any disorder,

Its compulsive origins are unearthed.

With an infection of 99.99%

Of the populous, it is suffocating, smothering me.

Adrift on solely my passion.

I wish they would just take this hint.

But I am a liar and I have it too

I try to veil it and have so few…

Of everything, but that is a lie.

Sure I have half a room, but that is a farce.

For in that half most is superfluous,

Unnecessary…

When I have the ability, I attempt to…

Rid myself of its responsibility.

Though I fight it with vows,

Most give in, more consumed than I.

They do not ask the “how’s.”

There is only one cure, but I cannot…

Get anyone to listen.

To the sounds of rot!

Force should not teach this lesson.

Although it must be hands-on.

We just don’t seem to get it…

We may have to get hit…

It is not difficult to rehabilitate.

Yet impossible to regurgitate.

The universe would simply implode,

If one were to reciprocate.

Or even worse…become an…

Do I dare disturb the ignorance?!

An altruist…

That word so corrupted…

To take it seriously means,

To be selfless and we have yet to evolve,

When the price is set…

And for the few who have seen through.

And learned the acronym too,

This poem was over at line 32…