I take the suffering of others
and I load it onto my plate.
I keep hearing that someone’s dying.
There’s been a lot of that of late.
I hate to ask about someone
for I know just what I’ll hear.
The sad news comes from everywhere;
both from far away and near.
Poor Sally, she has cancer
and it’s ‘terminal’, she’s been told.
Jack, he has it too
and his daughter is six year’s old.
Oh where are all the advancements
that they promised us would come?
Need we still be dying from cancer
though we pay a princely sum?
Who benefits from all the wealth
that sickness generates?
And who sits back and watches
patients in pain that excruciates?
I could not profit off the pain
and the death of so damn many.
I could not go to sleep and dream.
My conscience would disturb me plenty.
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