Journal 5- Eckhardt


“Survival”

 

Taunted by remorse, my

shoulders tense when the

doctor calls my name.

 

She talks, she talks, she talks,

But nothing makes sense.

Not anymore, at least.

 

A simple, yet delicate process

with a 99.5% survival rate.

 

I will survive only to endure

constant pain, agony, and regret

for who knows how long.

 

A PhD told me a couple years,

but he told me forever.

 

What do we do with a problem

so unfixable?

A biblical blessing takes a turn for

the worse.

 

A crisis, but we’re the only ones

to blame.

It wasn’t worth it.

 

I ask myself if I did the right

thing, But the response is

weighing down my soul.


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