The Smiling Dealer—unshaken, adored—
Writes in the margins, then cashes the ward.
Forgotten titles echo in corridors slick,
Each bottle a headstone, each click a trick.
Healing’s a handshake, comfort is cost—
Salvion, a script for those already lost.
He carves out the living with God in his eyes,
Prescription the weapon, each warning a lie.
He’s not the doctor remembered in prayer—
But the final confession for those in despair.
His signure gold, his laughter concealed,
He is the disease that will never be healed.
Writes in the margins, then cashes the ward.
Forgotten titles echo in corridors slick,
Each bottle a headstone, each click a trick.
Healing’s a handshake, comfort is cost—
Salvion, a script for those already lost.
He carves out the living with God in his eyes,
Prescription the weapon, each warning a lie.
He’s not the doctor remembered in prayer—
But the final confession for those in despair.
His signure gold, his laughter concealed,
He is the disease that will never be healed.