poetry

The Cancer

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A killer is kept in silence, something not to be discussed.
Its darkness attacks too many who are surrounded with shame and disgust.

Countless lives are lost and tortured souls are crushed,
But the killer is left to roam free, to infect our silent society.

The cancer grows bigger than most, although ignored in large part.
We don’t march or carry signs, or spread our ribbons far and wide.

It’s sad that this happened, but what can we do?
That problem does not belong to me, but to you.

A child cries silent tears while hiding away,
A mother prays he will grow up ok.

She wants to shield him from the abuse she endures,
But how can she provide, she is nothing in this world.

The teenager in love is losing pieces of herself,
Giving away more than she will ever announce.

She excuses his actions, as only a polite young woman would do,
But deep inside she is dying as he announces, “What’s wrong with you?”

A young man dating his best friend of years,
Is forced to submission with the threat of fears.

What will his family do when they know who he is?
His life is a lie and he’s told he’s living in sin.

And yet the cancer grows to epic proportions,
Power and control turned out in many contortions.

This isn’t the kind of cancer we all rally behind,
It doesn’t pull at our heartstrings or make us feel good inside.

A small girl curls up under her bedcovers at night,
Hoping her father simply kisses her goodnight.

She has experienced more than most her age,
But she loves her daddy, so who is to blame?

The elderly lady across the street,
so sweet and kind to those she meets.

Her son moved in and now she slowly retreats,
to cover the bruises on her hands and feet.

A man takes the jokes that his buddies dish out,
“Your wife wears the pants in your marriage, man-up” is the tout.

He cowers at home under the strain of her voice,
But what should he do, he has made his choice?

The dog next door, chained up at the post,
Never allowed to run as he wants to most.

He howls at night and you hear his pain,
As the adolescent who lives there pushes him to “play.”

The bruises she wears are excused with shame,
But she won’t take help and applauds her husband’s name.

She didn’t show to work one day, her phone went unanswered,
The community mourned a life cut short, if only there were answers.

The cancer is strong, no matter who it infects,
It destroys the mind, the body, and soul…but never do we reflect.

If one is so lucky to survive the disease,
A life-time of struggles may still seem to be.

With stamina and support, love and understanding,
Your life can go on, a survivor tall standing.

But the scars will remain, and must be worked on with love.
Slowly erased until the last ones are gone.

Be strong in yourself, and find those who understand you.
Your cancer is not glamorous, but it is real and it is damning.

3 thoughts on “The Cancer

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