Through broken ribs they took lung outright. Slurs of pain through the morphene nights. Purple ink X on skin laid bare. The result of lump and cancer scare.
My step father passed some 25 years ago aged 34. RIP. His suffering during a brave 9 month battle with lung cancer still haunts me to this day.
1st edit - reworded 1st line to maintain equal rhyming flow throughout the poem.