Thursday 13 February 2014

February 13: Never, ever, give in


My brow it is furrowed, my eyes they are narrowed, my breathing it’s shallow and slight
I’m wondering why I’m unable to cry, but I’m clenching my fists for a fight
My specialist claims there’s a lump on my brain, that will take me in a such short time
But he cannot be right, and I refuse not to fight, there’s not a mountain for you I won’t climb

I try hard to be tough, I am made of stern stuff, I will not give up my life in this way
I do not want pity cause I do not look pretty, as I wrinkle and start to decay
Nor will I despair, I am going nowhere, I’ll fight this disease and I’ll win
As Churchill once said, as he sipped on his red, “Never, ever, give in”

My days they drag out, what is this about, I do not understand what it means
My shirts they are huge, just how much did I lose, there’s room here for two in my jeans
I will find a way, to beat or delay, this intrusion that threatens my being
I’ll get past this stage, and I will reach old age, I do not accept what I’m seeing

But my days become shorter, and I think that I ought to, lie down and have a short rest
I say that quite often, but my mood it does soften, I’m still putting this thing to the test
But it creeps up on me, ‘cause I still do not see, that the fight that I fought I have lost
My breathing is short, and one day I am caught, comparing the price of my pain to the cost

But I still try to fight, while it visits at night, I am weak, my defences are down
I lie here awake, the pain I can take, but my brow wears a permanent frown
And the force of the fight keeps me awake all the night, from my lips escapes a soft groan
But in the morning she wakes, and I know her heart breaks, 'cause I've left her, distraught and alone

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