Blood poisoned,
And a chained brain,
And mind predicted: broken,
Little hope for a little boy,
Who's blood didn't quite match up...
For a happy dispatch to the land of the breathing,
Then the mind-mender stepped in,
And He's been mending my mind every since,
Till I'm like His son,
So I continue to think,
And glorify this mind-mender of mine,
With thoughts maths and rhymes.