How Do You Fight Something You Can’t See?
I awoke to the tell-tale tile,
the smell of antiseptic
the quiet whispers of staff
moving with pace hectic
hovering above my head
they asked questions, without
waiting for answers
the beauty of the death struggle
fluid movement of dancers
pressure too low, the heart too worn
meds off track and heavy
fading out I hear one say
we need to adjust the whole medley
Now, I’m home sore and tired
my arms are heavy and worn
the bruises blue from the IV
and places where it’s torn
So, now I’m weary from the day
and my mind is all like fuzz
I may not be posting much
but friends it’s just because
I’m getting closer toward the end
the Doc gave me that look
gone are dreams of happy ends
and of finishing that book.
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