An Ode to the Mystery Bacteria

You pesky little bacteria,
you fill me with hysteria
Where did you come from?
No, don't go play dumb.
I know that you're in there,
that you want to make more heir,
but that just cannot be.
So get out of my mommy.
It's not that I hate you,
it's that I must choose.
I know that you're useful,
and that of you we're all full,
but I must draw the line,
until mommy feels fine.
So, reduce your mass numbers,
for Dr. Mejumder.
That's all that I ask.
It can be no great task.
But before I go I must warn,
get out before the storm.
The medicine is coming,
and it's anything but yummy.