The Populous - 1. Chapter 1

"The sickly populous extends their bony hands and
malnourished hearts to
the healthy ones:

The Beautiful Ones
with a visual exam we diagnose their immunity to our plagues
They disinfect our germs with every
sweet smelling inhalation and vaguely drape their elitism over their faces
creating a dam against our flowing outbreak of fatal cases

The Artists
hear it be told, they are infected
Yet they boldly take control
They use The Diseases like dried coal to keep their unconsciousness protected
they create
we relate
Then they loose their symptoms

Though!... there is no hope for you
we are not immune
its true, we're human.
But hear it be said!
Don't bring that gun to your head!"

was my answer to their question. Yet I wish I would have
expressed their ability to write their own prescriptions. That is what I have done, and will continue to do. Only now I wait for the pharmacist to honor it