Help! Help! The devil is after me, and I don't like it one bit.
Well, what do you know? I have a hoof for a toe.
Geez, Louise-I have red knees. Oh fiddle, I have a tail at my middle.
How whack, I have wings on my back. Oh dread, to tic
Me off, I have horns on my head. Although to some, I tac the look of a dirt devil.
I never stopped to look away from God's mighty gavel.
I am sure I can tell people who I am; tic-for-tac my stories can lye
That only our founders know the stem of cells leading meters, why?
Daring, I look up to them, and through to those in sane.
The devil's advocate could go spell my name.
But to my"'family,'" it is not the same.
To paraphrase my Mum,"It's just a game-To give you an "O" instead of an "A"
But before my dad dies, and after I learn to see,
Three jolly, little letters were danced around...called HIV.
To the medical cynic, I would beg and plead to undo this cruel fate;
Yet based on my means, it's all innate;
The cure for anxiety is allegedly Parnate.
Try to measure the grain of blood like a red cross!
Don't pleasure denial, through which sands of time-
Not Egypt or a scarlet letter,
Not like devil's in dark ages would litter.
If it is forward or backward, it is how they lived;
To scrabble upwards like DARE or Mother's Against Drunk Drivers did;
To treasure the measure of life of each kindred kind
Like alphabet soup that soothes a mind.
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