Get someone to cure me
Bring me the finest men
Show them my aching body
Save me from my end
Whatever drugs they write
I’ll consume them all
Just as they prescribe
Before my heart will fall
Throw whatever money
Throw away my wealth
Nothing is of use to me
Without my goddamn health
O’ Doctors, come and help me
Cure me — I stand before you
Death could come any minute
And do your healing job for you
Death Could Come Any Minute
Frank Solanki 
Omg the way you framed it is just amaxing!!
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Thank you.
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Wow! This one hit close to home. Well written Frank!
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Thank you.
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You’re welcome,
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Yes! I’ve read a lot about death over the weekend in the book I was reading… and this captures that feeling of utter helplessness regardless of wealth completely! So good!
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Thank you.
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I liked how you could feel the his pleading from the utter fear of death
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Glad to know you liked it.
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That’s a feeling for now
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Once again, great post.
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Thank you.
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I read this as our awakened sense of our own morbidity. Death has become much closer, more real and stalks us all. Nice share Frank
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Thanks, Paul.
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Yet we prefer doctors over the cure-all solution, we are indeed complicated 😶
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Again, a touch of satire coming through. Might I add a Post-Script?
Be they poor GP or specialist/When they’ve done all they can for you/They’ll grasp your hand, say you’ll be missed/And whisper ‘here’s the bill- payment’s overdue.’
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Let us hope it stays away awhile longer yet, yes? ❤️
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Death is indeed a cure-all. To shrug this mortal coil, to sleep, to dream, to die. Who’s up for a beer?
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