Diagnosed

Disease of the mind
Controlled by another
Hated by the higher
Loved by the lower.

The sicker the better
We’re not coherent.
The sicker the richer
Total opposites.

The disease is life itself.
Blood sucking hell raisers.
The happier we are the worse 
Then hurt anyone who tells us otherwise.

We don’t even know we have it.
We are the statistic of dying liabilities
The only disease that murders our loved ones
Even before ourselves.

Selling our souls
To a disease torturing us.
Yet we torture others for our future expense.

SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE

Soaked with blood, sweat and sadness.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace