It Cures All Ills

July 9, 2016


Wicked still and gasping for breath,

Old wares dragged up to the crest.

Masks come undone, curtain call,

as it rises through your chest.


Fever in the guise of manic thought,

sweating out the sickness internal.

Aching in ways to debilitate,

inner talk becomes infernal.

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