Cure

In a lab full of vapours and spirits and twisted tubes,

He set out to conquer death. In this mad lair, 
Unsleeping and forgotten, he toiled 

And at last, with a slight touch of thyme,

Held a vial of liquor to the light – at last! 

He put the stuff to his lips and drank the cure –

No longer would he contend with the malady.