Ill At Ease
If disease were aware
Would it look up from its meal,
And look me in the eyes?
Would it dab its mouth
Removing any trace
Of you from its face?
Would it be annoyed
At the interruption?
Would it notice the loss
And grief decaying my spirit
Before its eyes?
Would it feel guilt,
Or turn away from my misery,
And continue its repast?
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