I notice flaws in others as I move
around – I see my friends grow old and stout,
my relatives relapse. I would improve
the lots of most I love – I have no doubt
my cure is best; my remedy is fine.
I’ve spent a lifetime learning and I’ve found
the cause effective, and my own design
comprises truth in texture, light, and sound.

So I, a self-taught medic, state my case
as if I wrote the books upon my shelf,
as if I ran experiments to base
my theories on, took labor from an elf
who worked all night to holler in my face:
“O idiot physician, mend yourself.”