Virus.
Like a virus, it festers in men; the failures of election. Taking over their lives, sucking them dry, only to leave them to die. Like a panacea for the immune, yet deadly to the affected.
The virus floats with the winds, it goes two ways – a blessing and a curse. Only time will render its purpose clear. In whatever way, it ensures its own survival.
I am an infection, not the infected.
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