I could be famous, for I have figured out something new
A grand new disease only one person could transmit to you.
Its not your typical bi-polar, I call it “aggressive-depressive”
The transmitter isn’t against will, for she is highly non-suppressive.
Once it attacks, it’s a one person all out war.
And you try to fight it until there’s literally nothing left…
To her, its all fun and games. There’s no after thought.
No guilt. The spirits, long after they’ve gone, they still cant find the rest they’ve sought.
I am a doctor, I am the healer, I’m the only one whose fought.
Technicalities mean nothing, I know I’ll die by your hand.
Why am I dying for everyone’s sins? This is not my fault…
I had no part in this, just let me go.
I’m not meant to suffer, I thought I was supposed to do great things.
Any other disease would be merciful, just do it.
12.11.06
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem