Flowing through my fingertips,
Trickling to my toes.
Something not passing between these lips
A parasite never to be known.

I, an ungracious host,
Am helpless to my defeat.
Burdened shall I be with my post,
And never a way to retreat.

A microscopic element,
All so tiny, so unpure.
their thieving shall produce no rent,
Now never will my heart be sure.

What might be the end result?
No death, no hurt, no pain.
Overtaken by this cult,
Forever shall they reign.