And there it was again. <br />Eight months without <br />and hope abundant, <br />his faith, which was <br />needless to say, things, <br />real things hoped for, <br />such as dreams <br />also necessities, <br />the foul essentials <br />of a life he had not wanted. <br /> <br />The bloody pain. <br />The hospital had seemed, <br />those years ago <br />indifferent, yes <br />because he did not have <br />a proper policy <br />nor dog-eared cash <br />to pay for tests <br />and 'management'. <br /> <br />No one could tell him <br />about the nature of <br />the menace that would come <br />a couple times a year <br />with a ferocity <br />that rivalled death itself. <br /> <br />So, in the end he did consult <br />the latest books on medicine, <br />for diagnosis and the lot, <br />it could be, so they said <br />diverticulitis, or polyps, <br />or some type of colitis, <br />such as Crohn's or IBS, <br />he also found that, in the end <br />it was too likely to deteriorate <br />and turn itself into malignancy, <br />as if you needed that, <br />Oh Modern Medicine, he chanted <br />give me your pills, and potions. <br />I'll swallow them for peace <br />and for a cure that does defy <br />the books and all the learnings, <br />I do not give a stuff at all. <br />Just take that friggin' pain away, <br />and I will pay you with my soul, <br />when all my money has run out <br />and crazy devils still persist <br />in sending missiles straight to me. <br /> <br />He hid the blood as it appeared, <br />and left no trace for her to find <br />inside the tub or anywhere, <br />it was his little secret only now, <br />the first and so essential <br />perhaps the gods would show <br />a bit of mercy.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-little-secret/
