Dear Mr. Hodgkin's Lymphoma

Dear Mr. hodgkin's Lymphoma, you took him buy surprise you know? He woke up on a Saturday morning complaining about you. Only then, he thought you were nothing but a torn shoulder muscle. For days he went on cringing, every time he reached for the cookie jar for my baby sister, or teared up as the pain shot across his chest while picking up my little brother. As weeks pass by I can see the face of a cheerful 4 yr old boy being held by his father, slowly fade. And the playful noise that once echoed from his vocal chords, turn into the cry and whine of a young cub abandoned by his mother. Pops, Dante doesn't mean it when he screams at the top of his lungs he hates you. He's just to young to understand that Mr. Hodgkin's Lymphoma is hurting you. And Mr. Hodgkin's Lymphoma don't think you got off so easy. 'Cause even though Mr. Kahn said "No Rhyme Endings," things between are NOT lemon squeezy. Cause even though you're curable, you still make my father weep.

~In Memory Of My Pops~
~Cris~