Cancer and War
Why is my bare scalp showing,
When hers is covered with crimson?
Why is my head just skin,
While hers is engulfed in a river of gold?
These are the questions
My daughter asked me,
Not my physical heir
But the product of my stripped pride.
My daughter, forged from the scars,
Left by a scalpel, closed by a flame.
A piece of my skin
That stole my young vicious optimism.
A piece of myself
That turned to night.
So when my daughter asks why
I can't answer, I can't explain.
Why do cells turn against cells?
A civil war within one body.
Why do people turn against people?
Small bumps, Large consequences, Small people...
Large conflicts, Mass destruction
Bald heads filling hospital beds,
Young boys taking the jobs of men.
So similar to you and me.
Copyright © Sarah Deegan | Year Posted 2017