Cancer

Cancer

by Jacque Graham

The day is cold.
My spirit also chills.
Waiting for the surgeon's call
Dampens my mood.

"A port" they call the device
Implanted in the chest.
Designed to feed the body poisons,
Chemicals to kill the cancer
Fed by a cigarette,
Bit by bit,
Month by month,
Year by year.

They tried to warn us then,
But advertisements won.
"Be popular, follow the crowd.
Be one of the group.
Be attractive; buy my brand!"
They said.
What a lie!
Popularity bought at the price of life.

Cancer is a high price to pay.
Following the crowd of victims
Balding from the treatments,
The treatment that buys a little time,
But doesn't buy life.
Bald does not seem attractive now,
Too high a price for
Being "branded" by the promise of popularity.