Im sick,
And I've broken again,
back on the mend,
back on the hospital ward.
With the stale fear and life ends.
This is where the shit bends,
goes screwy,
if i had a god I'd be doubting,
why he'd do this to me.
This aint karma
this aint kosher
where did cushy go,
and comfort?
Discarded in the dirt pit
with your tears,
you are adult now
on your own with it.
Make me proud,
dont cry girl, nothing
can get you down.
Chin up strong jaw set
to ignore, the heart monitor sounds.
Too loud and you cant
bleed them out
into the white noise,
searching for distraction
among the medical toys.
A contest entry
- How Do You Mend? by ShaShay.
1400 points, ended August 19, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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