Posted

The Timeline
(dedicated to a friend)

stephen-dantes

 

A doctor’s idea of humour fills no empty cup of cheer
For nothing is here, but fear.
His one great deed
Did all to kill me there – heartfelt.
If near ever was a time to seek promises in Gods,
Or that one we’re taught to be supreme,
It is now.
This is the cancer of my soul.
And though literal
I feel less whole than this psychotherapeutic wow –
I refuse to shave my head
And I refuse to tell.
Well, I’ve told just one
And before the day ends there may be another;
A gathering of pity and sympathy that frankly emasculates me
Like pulling my gut anally
Pathetic
This is inhumane.
Oh God,
If you are who they say you are,
And maybe who I want you to be at this moment,
Even the who you should have been before now,
Why must this disease eat away at my core?
Why am I on a timeline of death,
As if being born was not punishment enough?
As if dying is what I was born for…

 

 

© written by Stephen A. Dantes.

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