Our God invented pains and aches
as well as those annoying breaks.
What doctor would not talk of DOOM
inside an empty waiting room?
The madness of the term disease
could only be conceived in error.
And while we pray on aching knees
HE strikes inside our bodies terror.
The logic does escape me though
as illness shows that His creation
can't be the work of any pro,
it smacks, to me, of exploitation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem