I knew about it from the start
When the parasites settled into my essence
They seemed quaint at first, manageable
Compared to other intrusions,
Disruptions that I’ve endured over time
Later I knew they were absorbing my vitality
As they left behind their waste
Later still, how strange to watch my own aches
Increasing feebleness
No reverence or forethought
No one stepping forth
Can I kill them before they kill me?
Pleasantly, though, mine play Beethoven
Their Mozart exquisite
Poetry beautiful with depth, passion
Inspiring lyrical critique
Their art, though, high as it is,
Has never managed to alter human nature