Fighting Cancer

Each day drags by
Like the icy hours of the fridged night.
The endless moments of frozen soil
Remain idle as the fridged, negative twenty degrees winds remain persistant.

All his pain and suffering
Becomes the burden of 1,000 tons on my bare back.
It is a part of my every thought,
Be it expressions, such as this, or the words that ask cash or credit?

As I look into the eyes inwhich he is close to
All I can see is the deep abyss inwhich he is becoming.
Their tears are the nonexisting lake, dried in the scorching desert.
Their hope is becoming no stronger thanthe delicate feather of a dove.

Watch the ocean on a briliantly warm day.
A day much like when your only care was playfully dodging the misty whitecaps.
But in the end, the foamy substance would always receed.
And the pacific blue summer sky always turned the icy gray shade of winter.

Each moment falls deeper.
The end is closer than the smell of rotting, moldy feces
Unthoughtfull placed beneath your front doorstep.
The only quetion left to be revealed is what the end has in store for the hopeless.