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Jan 2016

Diagnosis cancer
what goes through the mind
am I left behind
on the dump just rotting
cast out no longer viable
my bodies not reliable
its growing funny things


Its growing funny things
perhaps I'm growing wings
so fly me up and out of it
can't stand its din get rid of it
this mood that snatched my breath
I'd like to take a clout at it
it could cause my death


Let doctors fry and poison me
they've done it once before to me
I'm knockin on the door of doom
shut in an MRI its boom


Its beat, its heat, its feat complete
rotting on the ******* heap
shouting like a lamb its bleat


Cut me, slash me, burn my bones,
I'l be new. I'm going home
home where I belong...

I'm still here to sing my song

My efforts at Rapp!! An exciting way of reciting poetry, this one of course in the MRI tunnel.
Margaret Ann Waddicor
Written by
Margaret Ann Waddicor  Norway.
   Joe Cottonwood, martin and ---
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