Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.

I've always been a thunderstorm
and you say you're not fairweather,
but darlin' why is it when I come around
you always panic for your umbrella?

I'm choking on the tears
That I am unable to shed

There's smoke in the air
It's everywhere

There's smoke in my lungs
My breath it expunged

There's smoke in my eyes
Making me cry

There's smoke in my life
Cutting like a knife


I sit and watch the fire
Burning up all I desire
I watch the wind blow
The memories that flow
Unable to stop the burn
Even with all I've learned
On all my life experiences I choke
Only in darkness is my name spoke
Nothing now but a whiff of smoke