I’m still working on this one (this is rough draft number five), but it’s beginning to take shape.
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Cancer,
the silent killer.
By the time you see the symptoms,
it’s too late.
Blood in the urine,
bile behind the eyes.
Jaundiced skin
stretched over calcified bones;
you watch the organs fail,
one by one.
The palliative care
buys time:
say goodbyes,
write a bucket list you won’t start,
pray to a god you’ve never believed in,
and who never
believed in you.
Family grieves,
or maybe not.
Friends hold your hand
watching the IV
drip.
A long, discordant note.
Closure comes,
in ashes spread,
or held in a garbage bag
on a garage shelf;
broken Christmas ornaments,
and a rusted shovel
for company.
But some cancers are
less obvious.
A missed apology.
An unanswered email.
Blood spilled,
blood lost.
A broken bond.
Trivial wounds,
unattended
turned life-altering scars.
Silence.
Defeating, cacophonous.
Haunting.
Walls built.
Water thickens.
Crimson stains
are bleached away.
Some cancers eat the kidneys,
some
eat
the
soul.
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Thanks for reading,
~ Victoria Elizabeth
I don’t read much poetry, like even less. You made me read, you made me like.
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That means a lot to me. Thank you!!
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