When a Poem is a Symptom of Illness


This is a poem I wrote last year, while taking an anatomy class. It is probably nothing to be proud of, but it makes me chuckle. It also makes it hard to deny that I sometimes suffer from mental derangement:

Ode to Capillaries

Capillaries deserve great respect,
Great wisdom in design they reflect
Arterioles and venules they connect
The blood comes here after it’s trekked,
To vessels so small we cannot inspect,
Nutrients and oxygen they like to eject,
And gather the waste that tends to collect
And wash out the stuff that tries to infect,
My fav-o-rite vessel if I had to select.

Matt Troupe
5/07

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