Fighting Ire with Fire: An Ode to War

One would think that this would begin in Ancient Greece,

But the story doth begin in a land much less at peace.

When our valiant protagonist and his fearless kin,

Committed an unforgivable and dreadful sin.

They decide to go to the modern day Gulags of gruel,

They chose unwisely to go to Medical school.

 

Just shy of a decade he studied the trade,

Perfection is sought with trocar and blade.

He then goes on to master piercing, pricking and intubating alike,

Few ailment can escape their inevitable plight.

It took immense sacrifice and years of toil,

The gladiatorial warriors in a battle of wits and marks did embroil.

Attempt at your risk, the odd decade and a half of despair,

Our hero’s bank account had little more than air.

 

Out of the frying pan and in to the colosseum,

Rather than fair maidens, delusions of grandeur come out to greet him.

Unfortunately the true enemies of this warrior lay not where he thought;

No, not in the frail patient with disease, so fraught,

It’s the hostile unruly ‘gladiators’ who now surround him instead,

They take turns to smack him and whack him on the head.

A sound thrashing ensues even Hitler would have been proud

Perhaps on them even a medal of honour bestowed

 

For now our hero lies in wake,

“Where,” he thinks “, did I commit my mistake?”

He think back on the time to his training in a bygone time

When thanks to the ‘Dr’ he was in his Tinder prime

That 2 letter prefix took half his life to attain,

But he regrets not a second of it all the same.

King Leonidas may have been the greatest warrior the world could see,

But even he wouldn’t survive 2 months of OBG.

 

Years passed on the burn grows ever stronger,

His spirit broken further, a sense of accomplishment no longer.

When a patient is brought in dead on a stretcher,

No pulse no breath but he rechecks for good measure.

The caregivers though are not as benign,

Their psyches unruly, their intentions malign.

With a smash and clash the violence begins

A piercing cry and howl is heard above the din

 

The violence he does with every fibre abor,

But with the Spartans it is plain blood and guts galore.

He rises up, bleed gushing and sinew tense

No one helps him, rather they video record the suspense,

He thinks back on the unassailable exams he cleared

Courage finds him, his eyes focus on the assailants he once feared

The fuse now burnt he inevitably caves to the carnal vendetta

Leonidas-esque does charge, “THIS IS SPARTA!!”

 

Rohan D’Souza

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