“I know him, I can label him, I know right now what’s wrong.”

The words that I hear everyday; a common healthcare song.

But labels, I find are for jars of nuts out in the shed;

the reality of being human isn’t in the books we’ve read.

“There’s no real need to see him, I can diagnose from here;

he’s a bit diferent so there’s pathology it’s clear.”

“And so I’ll write it on this page; his history of disease.

It doesn’t take much effort, I can sentence him with ease.”

Time and time again we write without a thought or care

for the complexities of humanity sitting over there.

And though he looks quite calm right now, we know that deep inside

there is a Demon lurking that thinks that it can hide.

But nothing hides from judgement so freely spread around;

lift up anybody’s mask and there’s judgement to be found.

So when judgement is a sentence deceed by word and law

should we make them so rashly or dig a little more?

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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