How can I defeat that which is of myself without self destruction?
What can I do to kill the part of me that is so stupid it doesn't even know it's killing all of me?
My body is confused about its purpose...if I could give it one it would be HEAL!!!
It grew far beyond its capacity to simply heal itself!
It became a cell production MACHINE.
Mine's called Prostate cancer. It sucks the air out of my mothers lungs. Pulls my fathers countenance down. Shrinks them to the hopeful children they once were. I know I'm loved!!! I hate what this has done to them! What it will do.
I am my mothers baby. I am my fathers oldest son.
I am not supposed to watch them grieve but mourn for them!
You want to know the difference between cancer and a Mack truck?
The Mack truck doesn't notify the entire family before it crushes the life out of you, saying "Hey! Watch what I'm about to do to this poor clod!"
Cancer kinda does...
YOU ARE READING
I See Through
PoetryPoetic musings of Barry Tudor on life and introspection. A journey of a motorcycling American poet lost in the midst of his own country. Hellish past. Glorious present.
