Cancer

Winter wind delivers chills, but I do so much better. Rain can soak a man but still, by fear I make him wetter. I'm the curse that's on your head, the weight inside your pocket. And the chain that binds your soul for feed, I'm the key and I'm the locket. Questions for the days of past, after breath is gone. Answers that are answered last, are truthful never wrong. There is no secret to my worth, I'm a priceless piece of treasure. The size that kills is never what, all that man can measure. Just like shadows on the wall, sweet silhouette the dancer. The gift that life does give us all, the body full of cancer.