Doctors

The oath of Hippokrates
requests you to be an ace
to perfectly recognize
all illnesses in disguise
never to increase human pain
and not to become insane.

The doctor, the end of the line,
ultima ratio, please be mine,
care for me, find a way
that I stop to stagger and sway,
put me together again,
me, the pilgrim in vain.

Although admired manifold,
it's an inhuman profession, cold,
working on human material
administering intra venal and cardial
concentrating on the science proper
with one word - being a doctor.

Doctors need to keep secrets
they swallow all sort of lies
one word too much with regrets
and half the world knows why he dies.
Secrets, oh how they devastate,
the soul, the family and the mate.

F Sz 25 Nov 2006 Meyrin