Parkinson's Disease
It's called Parkinson's Disease it is real,
they say I have it,
of lying they are not in the habit,
one third of three is my chances of survival,
I will fight this thing,
no matter what the future may bring.
In three years, the end maybe drawing near.
after that there is less fear,
my end it may not seal.
The tremor I have I was frightened by its arrival,
I will continue to fight,
I think that is right.
I will not go gently into the night,
it may not be a pretty sight,
but I will resist with all my might.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
