Underneath your very skin
Or deep within your shin
Or hidden in an inner organ
Or even in your very brain
Hidden in your thirty trillion cells
There is one
Who feels distain
Who feels neglect, perhaps
Entitled perhaps
There is one
Who wants to go against the grain
Who wants to make life all about him
Or maybe — maybe it’s just a whim
Whatever the reason, the cause or triggering event
Its very soul is bent
Hell-bent, in fact, on twisting life
All around his own minuscule strife
Unknowing as an ant
Of four billion years
It took for human bodies to evolve
Unknowing that it doesn’t all revolve
Around the sicko single cell anemic
Ignoring all the subtle body’s beauty
It thinks it can direct the lungs and heart and brain
To operate much better than they do
Ignores 10 billion other folks as well
Ignores the other species making up the Tree
It knows of nothing but its own ambition blind
Naught of love and naught of kind
And as though not bad enough
It spreads its toxic lying stuff
Screaming chemical signals to emphasize
It needs to metastasize
False signals and fake news
To snooze the body that fostered its own life
Imagined strife
Dissect, Direct and Demonize, Demoralize, Dichotomize
It has no other goal in life
Than spread itself and power everywhere until thus
Its coward-yellow pus
Metastasizes all of US.
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Cancer Always Loses in the End
Pattern Language for Collaboration & Cooperation
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