Ofttimes we confer our lives to men of medicine,
Hippocratic Samaritans,
Truly worthy of our trust,
Yet once this trust was broken,
Reduced to residue in a syringe,
By a foul miscreation of fate,
On the island kingdom he resided,
A creature with eyeglasses and a kindly gaze,
This monster in a white coat,
Human anthrax,

Where he practiced,
The neediest of us fell,
Where he called,
Toxins invaded innocent bloodstreams,
Grandads and grandmas,
Taken by foul chemical artifice,
They needed him,
And yet he slaughtered them,
Casually he spoke in the sound of needles,
Smiled kindly with venom behind teeth,

Aged though these victims were,
They could still have had decades,
But with him they had minutes.

Comments
  1. Yes!! Absolutely agree with your point of view.

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