The Incurable Ail


Oh madam,
You are stricken by a terrible thing.
A malaise of which the mournful sing.
A frightful, aching, potent disease.
An infirmity that brings mankind to its knees.
A injustice of a sort that few of us know.
The curse of which sirens and witches crow.
The crown of thorns atop a bloodied brow.
An illness no man can deny or allow.
But I know the incurable ail that’s afflicting you.
It is your beauty,
And it afflicts me too.

About theonlyjoe

I am Joe. This is a collection of my ramblings, poems, stories, afflictions, victories, and the picture of my mind. Make yourselves at home. View all posts by theonlyjoe

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