The sickened man upheld his name

As sick could take friends just the same.

This sickness from him, stole his friends 

As his infection stopped their mends.

For even though he passed it on,

He wasn’t sick to cry upon.

His days were long, he stayed at home

So he could sick and others roam.

For when he set them underground,

Then he, alone, felt safe and sound.

And when he sicked them he was blessed

With healthy love for peace and rest.

And so he killed them all in time,

And then, alone, he lived his crime.

For sick abate, he sicked at home.

But still he knew he couldn’t roam.

“I need some more to get my fills

I feel alone, like days of yore

For Life’s not real without some kills

“Until there’s death, an empty core.”

The world was large, he worried, not.

For souls abound, this melting pot.

He left the confines of his home,

To kill some more as he would roam.

“These people, happy, live to breed,

And when they feel good, men are steed.

For I will sick them, they won’t roam,

And Then I’d best be stuck at home.”

“I need some more to get my fills

I feel alone, like days of yore

For Life’s not real without some kills

“Until there’s death- an empty core.”

My life is real when those are dead.

When people’s lives are stuck in bed.

So sickened man, he stopped at parks,

He toured the Tetons, ups and downs,

And saw the York, both new and larks,

And bed and breakfasts, far in towns.

He stayed in France and Spain and seas.

And stopped at China, saw the bees.

And even Egypt, Cairo’s sand,

And saw the heat upon the land.

He needed more, he was alone.

He thought aloud, ‘so Something’s missing’

And Something’s rot, And Something’s lost 

Something’s cold and something’s not.”

The sickened man learned nothing here.

He frowned and spat at days gone bye.

He hated people for their love,

He felt their happy felt above.

And then he swore he’d kill them all.

This better felt by his insides.

“For every person holds a key

To lonesome friendship I  can’t see.”

“And Sicking all will show their roams.”

And lonesome lonely he knew well

Will fester others in their homes.

“And then, they’ll know my hardened tale.”

“I need some more to get my fills

I feel alone, like days of yore

For Life’s not real without some kills

“Until there’s death, an empty core.”

And so the planes he took made sick,

And then the trains, he passed it on,

“But cruises’ runs should do the trick.”

But all in one, that made it stick.

So now the world was stuck at home

And he had lonely ways in life,

And now he realized, if in roam

Away from souls, he felt his strife.

“I need some more to get my fills

I feel alone, like days of yore

For Life’s not real without friends’ drills

“Until there’s death, an empty core.”