17 Days

Through bloodshot eyes,
he stares at the world,
seeing more truth than most.
He feels the poison
racing through his veins.
It should be done now.
A roar concludes the show.
He stalks off,
knowing where to find it.
This poison that will slowly kill him.
Time passes,
he gets worse.
He’s bringing them down with him.
It’s time to end it.
Two calls exchanges,
words of worry and comfort passed.
He walks with a man
still groggy from sleep.
More words pass.
Most important,
“I’ll get better.”
17 days
the words are repeated.
17 days
the words become reality.
“I’ll get better.”