Before you read today's poem, you should know that no, you don't need to worry about me. This is a tie-in with the novel I'm writing for Camp NaNoWriMo.
The pertinent information is: The main character is the last guy alive who is contaminated with this deadly disease, and he's a carrier, so it's not going to kill him. It can't survive outside the human body, so they have to put him in isolation to study him and keep him from the rest of the world. It's all very top-secret, so most of the world doesn't know about him; they think this disease went the way of smallpox. And this is written from his POV.
I'll try to write a funny poem for tomorrow.
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Isolation
Or obliteration?
Causation
Of the desolation
Of civilization:
Contamination.
Not my imagination,
Not a hallucination,
Not a fabrication.
Abomination.
Aberration.
Damnation
And condemnation.
Examination
And experimentation;
No operation,
No vaccination;
No alleviation,
No amelioration.
Segregation,
Separation:
My obligation.
No adulation,
No admiration,
No adoration,
No acclamation
For my participation.
In summation,
I'm the salvation.
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