Sick

The natural urge,

To succumb to the sweet calamities whispered in one's ear,

Lays within the foundation of our beings,

Our souls,

Staining our hands red with malevolence,

And with disaster,

It conquers all of mankind from its first breath to its last,

It is bred within our species so that

No human can hide

There shall exist no pure human upon the face of the earth.

This seething, unbridled affliction has existed since the beginning of mankind,

And it will be the very force to lead it to its end,

It pumps ferociously through one's blood,

Tainting them from the inside out.

Infected with this contagion,

All will breed it,

And it will remain forevermore.

There is no possible way to detect it,

There is no way to cure it

For,

It hides well,

Simply resting within the depths of chaos,

Waiting for the perfect moment to strike,

To wreck havoc upon all that possess it,

Those who breed it;

Mankind.

Through all negative actions that have left their mark upon this earth,

This entity is the manifestation of all that is unpleasant and harmful in essence,

However,

If it were by some means obliterated,

All that is negative in this world would be,

Beautiful,

Peaceful,

Pure.

All that is positive would be even more so.

With the contagion defeated,

A utopia would be left in its wake,

Man would have no other choice but to live

Harmoniously. Blissfully. Mirthfully.

Tranquil fantasies would establish themselves within the world,

And the confines of a grim reality would deconstruct,

It would be impossible to

Spell it out,

Hold it up to a mirror,

And realize that such a 

Wicked way of life exists.

With this new found change,

The world would never be the same

And for once,

All of humankind would truly and undoubtebly

Live.