That Feeling Inside

That feeling inside,
deep in the pit,
the one to make me nauseous,
that makes me physically sick,
the brush-by move,
the perversion of circumstance,
the cowardly protection
of the self-destructive romance,
the wooing on an inner
illness to come outward
to further perpetuate
the attention-screaming coward,
the tumor grows further,
the cancer spreading quicker
with a shield to protect it
that gets continually thicker.
The death sentence calls,
the time for execution now,
never knowing what hit me,
the death toll clear and loud.

Evident Destruction

You bring it on yourself,
you sick human being,
disgruntled in your ways,
you're too disgusting.
You can't stand to be
around what you created
with memories of the good
becoming more and more outdated.
Painting yourself into
the corner you swore against
with such fearsome ferocity
that you momentarily meant,
now that it's to brass tacks
you can't dig yourself out
of the death you've doomed
your life to with every doubt.
Gifts given squandered
and goodwill bridges burned,
a soul more burdened than ever
has nowhere left to turn
but only itself to blame
for the destruction evident
from the miles away that
in a clear rear view is too prevalent.

The Feeling of Despair

The feeling in the stomach,
the feeling of despair,
the feeling of sickness,
the feeling that dares,
it all comes down
on a psyche split,
one that's broken
and one that's sick.
The spirit's done,
it's on the mat,
broken for good
and okay with that.
It knows the fight,
the energy it takes,
is no longer worth
the effort it fakes.
Instead its body
will remain on that mat,
lying there lifeless,
contently flat.

Our Little Girl's Diagnosis

She has the disease
her grandmother was given.
Diagnosed just today,
the panic arrives, as home it is driven.
The sweet little girl
who does not deserve this
is the one who will suffer
in what feels like death's kiss.
With words of encouragement
from those who know best,
we still have trouble
gaining the night's rest.
We worry about finances
for the fleeting moment of superficiality
only until we push that aside
to focus on the core of the news that is our reality.
As her parents, we fret
for her well being days down the road
as we also begin to panic
for what tomorrow will bode.
We try to take the news initially
with a strong lip for our daughter's sake
only to have the water swell
in eyes that cannot refuse the tears' lake.
We, the parents, regroup together
as we try to think ahead
only until we try to talk of what was heard
for mere seconds before more tears are shed.
We let the waterworks flow
from eyes that are seconds shy of dry
to allow the nightmares to escape
in favor of moments to look to the sky.
Our prayers begin early,
as they are sure to continue often,
to a God who has a plan
that is sure to contain hearts to soften.
Our little girl, ever the wise one,
she reminds us that it will all be okay
as her mother and I look into each other's eyes
to realize the girl is right as we just pray.
A diagnosis not at all what we wanted
to hear on what was a beautiful day,
we cope and react as responsibly
as we can in light of the news thrown our way.
We know no matter what,
as the smartest little girl reminded us,
we will have One to hear our prayers
and will have each other to lean on even as we fuss.
We must keep that optimism alive
as we deal with realism in the meantime
knowing all the while that we will make it through
together to a place down the road so perfectly sublime.