Cancer

January 16, 2010
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I walk in the room,
put on my medical mask.
"How are you feeling?"
"Don't even ask."
"I'm guessing bad."
She gave me a strange look.
"You would be too if you had..."
She stopped and shook.
"Do you wanna go for a ride?
Or maybe a walk?"
With tears in her eyes,
she began to talk...
"I hear the liars
as they speak:
'Nona, I'm tired,
and oh so weak.'
To only switch them shoes
so they see what I see,
do what I do,
need what I need.
I've found no answer
in the text books I've read.
I'm sick of this cancer!
I'm sick of this bed!
I wish the Lord would call me,
or treatments would start working.
I'm tired of falling!
I'm tired of hurting!
Tiffany, love what you've got,
forget what you don't.
If ever not,
you won't have much to show.
I fought, no doubt.
I did all I could.
I pray no one turns out
like little Nona Hood."





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