Ken's Poetry

Virus

You have read me, so you are infected.
I am hidden in your boot tracks,
in your Command com, in your genes
waiting the right time to attack you
to wipe your brain clean
or scramble your thoughts.

There may be an antidote,
you may recover (at enormous expense)
but you will always be afraid
looking over your shoulder, backing up,
taking vitamins, scanning for the signs;
even when you are yourself again

you will be different.
I have changed you.