He was a crippled man,
old and tired,
only moving with chemical blood.
He was barely awake,
barely alive,
society laughing as he walks by.
nothing to say...not that he could anyway,
nothing to do...all sad and blue.
that lonely old man;
he saw reality better than you and I,
with chemical blood,
he lies barely alive.
YOU ARE READING
chemical blood.
PoetrySo I decided to write something deep, a poem and its based on my granddad who suffered beautifully with cancer. Sadly, he passed away a couple of years ago. This is my view on what his thoughts must have been whilst going through what he did. Enjoy<3
