It’s like a growth that you know is there
but you refuse to seek medical treatment
You just avoid touching it
trying to convince yourself that
you’re okay
You’re not dying
It’s a scent that will linger on
like skunk on a dog
No matter your special remedies
the smell isn’t going to go
Until it goes on it’s own
But I’m convinced
This feeling isn’t killing me
or straining my senses
I’m okay
I’m not dying