“Political Malpractice”

~Esther Mitchell, 2014~

While corporations and insurance companies,
Battle it out to see who can line more pockets,
Reorganize themselves out of the truth, out of the blame,
I lay ripped to pieces by words like “policy”, “deductible”, and “network.”
While my body tears itself apart from the inside out,
And my mind trips over itself like a landmine,
Buried around every corner with ghosts,
Someone with a pen instead of a stethoscope,
A calculator instead of a microscope,
Sifts through the ashes of my life,
Weighs the ashes, and tells me what I’m worth.
I sit here, unable to afford the help that would save my life,
Defend my sanity,
Bring me relief,
Because some rich old man,
Hides behind association with false gods,
Prays at an altar of greed disguised as benevolence,
In a white-washed marble temple of hypocrisy.
I am not a statistic,
Not yet,
But I’m liable to become one,
Because that’s what happens,
To the legions of the invisible ill,
When what’s needed to heal us, to keep us well,
is determined not by a lab coat or scrubs,
but by a fat cat in a three-piece suit.

medmoney

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2 responses to ““Political Malpractice”

  1. Very well written, and oh, so true!

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