“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.
No Comments, Comment or Ping
Reply to “Journal 5- Eckhardt”