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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=425898" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>S.O.S. Medecins</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">S.O.S. MEDECINS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Analyst 				 </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>To be sure, as before, <br>when he walks through the door, <br>her poor heart will again be at ease; <br>each imaginary ill	<br>will be silent, or stiill, -	<br>for ‘tis only the mind’s maladies! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When her pulse’s tremor		<br>can’t be felt anymore, 	<br>then he’ll ask about neuroses, <br>why her senses shriek shrill? <br>why her faculties fill	<br>with the buzzing of billions of bees. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why tears flow by the score? 	<br>Why morale is so poor? 	<br>Why anxieties cause allergies? 	<br>Why do fears self fulfill? 	<br>Why do fantasies thrill? <br>and so many such symptoms as these.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of the problem the core	<br>is her psyche is sore, <br>though no dangers imperil the brain; <br>but the journey’s uphill	<br>once emotions outspill, 	<br>to restore her rapport he’ll explain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under medical law	<br>whats repressed must outpour, <br>as she suffers severely from strain; <br>so he’ll pop in a pill<br>which will last her until	<br>she can call upon him once again.<br> <br>S.O.S. Medecins</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cynic</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>One should set little score<br>on the scares of poor squaw, <br>when swearing her arteries freeze<br>Jill can conquer her chill, <br>there’s no chance it could kill, <br>fears of mice fade so fast before cheese.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nowadays the error<br>most men make, I’ve heard swore, <br>thwhen frail females of faintness complain; <br>is to pander until<br>cash is emptied from till, <br>or fair dames objectives attain! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Set a trap just before<br>Doctor raps on the door, <br>Love repeat, humble pie eat to please, <br>Promise dress, time to kill, <br>plan a trip to Seville, <br>see, surprise, she’ll arise from her knees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On reserves straight she’ll draw, <br>back to health to restore<br>her persona, control she’d regain; <br>for despite Doctor’s skill<br>she no longer feels ill, -<br>will from future depressions refrain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is best to ignore<br>scenes and swoons to the floor, <br>proving psychosomatic disease: <br>before doctor can fill<br>out his visiting bill, <br>dangers fading once granted maid’s Will.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">18 January 1981 </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>robi03_0172_robi03_0000 XXX_JXX</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Robin">Jonathan Robin</a><div class=q>
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Analyst 				 


To be sure, as before, 
when he walks through the door, 
her poor heart will again be at ease; 
each imaginary ill	
will be silent, or stiill, -	
for ‘tis only the mind’s maladies! 

When her pulse’s tremor		..."></div>
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