Cancerous

There’s an ache in my heart and I’ve
Broken my lungs. I can hardly swallow my
Own feelings. They gouge into my stomach and
Drive nails in my brain, so sometimes I wonder
If I’m really sane—
Or if I’m just rotting from the inside
Out.

My soul seems to have cancer for which there’s
No cure; no pills or prescriptions can help
Anymore.
There’s ash in my throat from an
Early cremation
Because I’m on the way to my final
Destination.
Maybe not for years, or just hours
Away—one thing I know:
This cancer’s here to stay.