Cancer.
Carcinoma.
Unintentional cellular suic*de.
All just different ways to say
I'm dying.

They say we fought a battle.
They say we died valiantly.
And once "they" stop talking,
I'd tell them it's more like
we were drafted into a room
where we were forced to put
guns against our heads
and play Russian Roulette
while doctors say
THESE ARE YOUR ODDS.
BEAT THEM.
We learn it's harder
to shoot a gun
while doctors play darts
on our arms.
We learn there's no such thing
as an
empty gun.

Sometimes I feel like I'd have
a better chance surviving
a car crash.
And I cry with my mom
because we both know she'll
survive the backlash.

Now I know you'll have no reason to.
I'll be another
name on a list
another
body, six feet under.

But of all the things about me,
my name is what I hope you remember the least.
But if that's what tethers you
to my memory,
promise me

you'll say my name

and remember.