The voice in my head said, "Cut the skin!"
I imagined the scissor blade press in.
If I cut the skin, will it take this out?
Will it take away the fear, the doubt?
Should I drink instead? Would that clear my head?
Of all the sadness? All the madness?
I had cancer. Nothing to see.
What's left now is a shell of me.
Cancer's hard, it takes your soul.
It sucks you dry, it leaves you old.
It numbs your heart and leaves you cold.
Cancer stalks, it lures you in.
The voice in my head said, "Cut the skin!"
© Rambling Rose@PeachPonderings. All rights reserved.
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