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Compulsion

a Poem by soma

a sickness swells seditiously inside:
bloated, boring, belching bile.
i am no surgeon, soldier, savior—
my insight is imprecise, impractical.
i excise the errors:
flagellations for the fever.
i pen with poison—
drudging, dragging, devouring—
the meter is the medicine,
the stairway, and the scythe.