• The Virus

    by Richard Foreman

    I, the virus?
    What a preposterous designation!
    And what allegations!
    Accusing me of raping
    Pillaging, killing, vandalizing
    And the rest of the nonsense.
    And though your words ring true
    And though your accusations
    Do have substance
    Though I do these things,
    Are you at all different?
    Where do you receive your food?
    Where do you find your drink?
    How do you make your bricks
    To build your houses?
    From whom do you rip away metal
    To build your lives?
    Whose bones must be broken
    For you to taste the marrow?
    I am not malignant
    For the most part!
    Sure, my residence may cause leaks
    And yes, my cousins may on occasion
    Burn you to the ground
    I look at you and see one difference
    You have a brain
    And thus the lunacy
    To declare innocence!

    posted to Cedar Street Times on February 5, 2010

    Topics: Young Writers' Corner

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