The doctors tell me
That my body is probably dying.
I knew that,
Yet it doesn't faze me.
They suggest I might
Have to have surgery
In 42 days.
I'm not scared.
I have to take 129 tablets
In the next 6 weeks.
They wanna see
If I get better.
Whatever.
Pushing every one out
So if it goes wrong
They won't be sad.
Hurt them before it gets worse,
That's how it is.
I'm not scared,
I don't really give a shit.
What happens, happens.
There's no way for me to
Change that fact.
Catchya.
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless State Of Mind
PoetrySad peoms and stories from built up emotions & memories over the past 3 years.
