A Cancer Called Heresy
My cancer is not one of death, but condemnation.
I feel the scorn of those who those who will not see the truth.
It surges through my body, their hatred and scorn.
I can tell they are all wishing I had never been born.
They condemn for speaking my opions aloud, They fear me for speaking what they think.
They know the truth is painful so they live in blissful ignorance.
They think if I am silenced it will not spread. But what I have to say will fill them dread.
I caught my cancer from another, someone just like me.
We are everywhere you are and we are growing everyday.
You fill us with pain and yet we now feed on it and grow stronger.
You will not be able to deny that we exist much longer.
Soon you will no longer call it a disease but a cure.
I feel the scorn of those who those who will not see the truth.
It surges through my body, their hatred and scorn.
I can tell they are all wishing I had never been born.
They condemn for speaking my opions aloud, They fear me for speaking what they think.
They know the truth is painful so they live in blissful ignorance.
They think if I am silenced it will not spread. But what I have to say will fill them dread.
I caught my cancer from another, someone just like me.
We are everywhere you are and we are growing everyday.
You fill us with pain and yet we now feed on it and grow stronger.
You will not be able to deny that we exist much longer.
Soon you will no longer call it a disease but a cure.