Surrounded by invalids
Suffocation
Pity
Fear
Why do you give
And give and give?
Is it hope for redemption;
A feeble one at that?
Or is it fear
That you might turn into
What you're looking at
Death looks a little better now, doesn't it?
Are they our gateways to eternal bliss?
Guinea pigs of nature?
Do they suffer for what they send forth?
The metamorphosis of our worst fears, perhaps?
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