I've made my peace with angels and demons alike, I've given my notice so people know this may be thee end of my life. There's only one thing I haven't stopped doing, that's fight. I take the medicine, sometimes in strife. I let them insert the poison that feels like a knife. I've let my hair fall to the ground and cried. I've yelled and screamed and swung until the tears sting. Saying something isn't fair doesn't make it better, it won't take it away or make it hurt less. Nothing will make it right. Cancer. 6 letters. 6 simple measly letters, in others words I guess they're alright, but when formed in this way.. Hatred. I fight until I can't. What other options are there? Die? That's the only other option, but I can't let my mind be clouded. That's not an option in my book. My doctor cried and jumped up and down when he told me my cell count lowered, I was confused at first until I realized, he doesn't want to loose me any more than I want to be lost.. Fight. Fight. ****. Cancer.


Riah