Sick

[al'Lan Mandragoran]

Sick

The virus inside
it eats away at me
kills my prescience
and gives me insomnia

Diseased and sick
I lie here, in contemplation
Trying to push away my fears
Mostly failing

Starting to loose cognizance
my prescience showing nothing
feeling faint, fading away
The ruse has control

As I fall, curiosity holds
Where's the antibiotics?
Can't feel the antibodies fighting
Dying from the inside out

Can you help find a cure?

[Slade]

quite interesting clear but do you think they will ever find a cure for that even though it is just a poem.

[al'Lan Mandragoran]

It's a poem about love, man. There's no cure for that, other than finding the right girl who'll love you no matter what.

[Rauru]

Suprised you didn't figure that out Slade.

[al'Lan Mandragoran]

It's a hard lesson to learn. And when you think you've found her, wait a while longer..you never know how wrong you could be.