Your Posion, Infectious.

Your poison, infectious, runs deep in my vains,
a pain that I caused, and my heart retains,
the poison I fear my blood will reject,
my hope and my dreams, (though much to expect)
are the wall that keeps your toxins inside,
from which, no longer can anything hide,
I try to conceal my infected state,
still it’s hard to mask, I’m forced to relate,
It seems they have antidotes to your disease,
I ban what they claim would cure it with ease,
I know my blood burns with the virus I house,
I know it’s a fire their efforts can’t douse,
There is one remedy, it’s potency pure,
It may be my one final chance for a cure,
and this simple antidote, effectiveness true,
is to release all your poison, and show it to you.