i have a lump under my armpit,
thick and pressured, i want to bite it off, throw it inside a bin

it's coming to me when i am feeling bumps and growths in my
frontal lobes. as i walk into the sunshine,
i can no longer see the road or the buildings or the twigs in her
hair.

mom had her breast removed.
i cannot bare to think about me
without any
hair.

these words that i want in the worlds books, will instead
sink into my veins and have no meaning
but instead let me be my own Ophelia, and i will link daisies in my hair
and drown singing no song but my own

my fingers are pressing against the wall, but all i have is callouses.