The familiarity of sickness descending
Dancing through the body at a breath taking rate
Searing pain, exauhstion, my head may explode
Sigh of relief when medication prescribed
Hope is ahead for the feeling of razors sliding down her throat to cease
Then what is this?
Her face has swollen, she cannot hear, speak or see well.
They say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”
Perhaps her response to these meds is a test of that
She’s to sick to think, yet decisions must be made.
The sure fix to the swelling, isn’t to be taken by someone like her.
A chronic condition she has makes this a bad mix, but desperation begins to seep in as the swelling gets worse.
Go ahead inject me she says
And now we wait