The Same Disease Poem by Tom Priestley

Creativity is a sickness to which there is no cure
Even if the creative spirit is not prolific enough
To churn out multitudes of artistry upon the world
The sickness still manifests itself
Staying silent for a while until it escapes
Until it forces it's way out of ones being
To be given to the people
The hearts and souls of the universe
Until the sickness infects them
Until we're all purging ourselves
Of the creative masses
That regulate the same disease again and again