Saturday

The Victims - a Poem

The victims are not only the indigent

who, in want of a better job
Make a living
spreading the virus
The victims are not only the carriers
No, they could live with it
Spending their entire fortune
nurturing the virus
The victims are not only the bed-ridden
who, shrunk to their bones
Nurse their eternal wounds
knowing they've not long to live
The victims are you and I
Husbands and wives
Siblings and offspring -- all of us
who, faithful to our vows
Are honored most viciously

with the virus of death.

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