The Body is not privy to The Mind and its rules
She is innocent to its world of made-ups and Kate Mosses
Why, then, is she to punish?
She lives in the real
The world of cells and physicals
Of burst vessels and naked gums
Where excess is safe kept
The Body is not privy to The Mind and its words, its numbers, its angers and hurts
For she is a worker and work she will do
Over and over for the most ungratefuls
The Mind will work too, for The Body to bend to its wills
Eventually she will tire and say:
Fine.
And it will finally end them three.