Failure to thrive they call it
Its just an umbrella code they give
To those of us whose bodies
Don't want to let us live
It's the last resort diagnosis
After all of the tests are done,
Every possible cause ruled out,
Every theory disproven, every one.
Its when you lose a little less than half
Of your entire self within a year
Somehow, others think you look ok
Not too much worse for wear
But by year two they recognize
You look less and less alive
No reason, no cure,  no treatment
Its just a ******* failure to thrive.
Trust me, it's a pivotal moment
When you hear it said
Not even half a decade old
At half a decade I'll be dead.
But I feel it (as if touched) I feel it
My body, brain, and soul go slow
I am dying, every part, altogether
And from what I'll never know.