THE FUGITIVE

I had reached a stage where it started eating me from inside,

I lay in my bed like a rotten egg.

Even though I was very much alive,

'Vegetable' is what they used to call me.

All the sympathetic eyes aiming at me

Started singing the dirge for me,

They had began their condolences much ahead of time,

Cancer was a grelim, but I was a gristle.

When everyone had started washing their hands upon me,

I needed a dowel to hold myself together.

The pain didn't get any better,

For it became a part of my life.

I started losing my mind, but not my heart,

I searched for the beauty in the pink again,

My scars became tattoos with better stories,

Because being strong was the only option I had.

I've seen better days, but I've also seen worse.

Then I knew to reach the best I had to go through the bad.

Cancer couldn't shatter my hope or silence my courage.

It was going to be only a chapter but not the story of my book.

Standing in the storm, I couldn't direct the wind, but I adjusted the sail.

It was all a mindset - whether to become a victim or a survivor,

And then I chose to become the latter.

I became a fugitive.

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