I am quivering With fear At the little lumps That have appeared.
And I am terrified Of rhyming.
Death; will have us beautifully Rotting, morphing, transforming Into a dripping, bloodless Enemy of life. I've never been afraid of feeding worms Only holding their slime encased bodies Out of the sheer thought of hurting their Extravagant ability to care for the earth...
A trait humans don't feel in their fingernails.
I might lose my hair But I've been collecting dress-up wigs Since I was a baby girl playing dolly, Dressing as the fairy queen princess who ruled the world. I might lose my hair, But I'm afraid of fighting this alone. Solitude was the perfect cup of warm tea And a fluffy blanket on a stormy day... and now... And now it has me shivering out of my skin.
I have transformed since our last Conversation. I have grown this ever brightening light And I am learning so much about me... Too much perhaps... Too much and not enough about These two little lumps.
I cannot help but immediately think the worst. It's probably nothing but I'm seeing a doctor on Friday.