What of this noxious malady
That is neither airborne,
Nor communicable, yet
Is highly contagious
A contaminate blood-borne
Has become our unique

This is peculiar, for
There are no physical
Markers, no telltale
Signs, no deformities,
No twisting of limbs,
Or wasting away
Of the flesh

Like the wind,
You can’t see it
But its effects
Are as apparent
As a strong gale

It is a mystery
How this malignancy
Is it able to sustain
Its strong and stubborn
Hold on humanity
Yet it seems to cling
For dear life

A moral pestilence
That mars not the body,
But the soul
An affliction
That ravages the heart
And destroys reason

A disease
That skews justice,
Stifles tolerance,
And blunts compassion

This scourge
Is stronger than
Any vaccine or remedy
Yet invented

Was once believed
To be a cure
However loves potency
Easily dilutes beyond
Ones kith and kin

And if history
Is a reliable predictor,
This moral affliction
Will endure as long
As humanity
Lo, even until the forth
And fifth generation
Of future generations

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