It sidles and it scurries and it nips you to the quick,
It hides inside the darkness and begins to make you sick,
The white robed proctor tries to stop it; maybe make you well,
The worm just smiles and smirks and says 'You can't, sir, I'm cancer,
You just scream and shriek and yell.
It has no lips or mouth or teeth,
It works such long hours, never rest or sleep,
Blood, bones, heart or kidneys, to it, it's all a feast.
So you moan and groan and try to remember how to pray,
It says "Why're ya doing all that crying, I ain't never going away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem