Braden's Poetry

The outside world
Knows of no infection
It shines on your aura
And sits upon your complexion

Still you desire Earth's pleasures
And you struggle to beat all measures
Of symptom factor

There will be a limit
Due to the balance of nature
You will rot within it
Crossing into death unsure

The symptoms will keep you down
Even as you hear the morbid sound
Of symptom factor

You will die reaching
For the cure assigned
You will ignore the teaching
And shut out the logic in your mind

To achieve the next plateau
With a lifetime of knowledge to know
Of symptom factor

[The Clinic] [Page 1 of 98 Poetry] [Page 2 of 98 Poetry] [97 Poetry]
[99 Poetry] [Archives Home]