Keep telling me that I’m your oxygen,
While you don’t believe I’m a cancer,
I sometimes wish I didn’t know you,
So you can sip on someone’s sweet oxygen,
And I remain a cancer.

Keep consoling me that I’m a good cancer,
A cancer that cures cancer,
I tell you that you are my oxygen,
But I reject inhaling you like a lung cancer,
Or deny your existence like an odd brain cancer.

Keep trying me, over and over, but you’ll tire,
And accept that you’re sweet oxygen,
And I’m a deadly cancer,
The process of acceptance is painful for us both,
Ironically, like a cancer.