Cancer

I

Hate

Cancer.

Its hand creep and crawl

like warped vines.

Its touch tarnishes and taints

like nails on a chalkboard.

Vile like stomach bile,

Its hold on another one

of those I love.

Is there anything

it won’t take?

Cancer’s game is destruction.

Barbed wire around organs

constricted and stabbed

for working.

Lungs riddled with it.

Every breath a growing burn.

I yearn to ease his pain

and pray peace

finds him in sleep.

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Cosmic Scale

A galaxy is held in her glowing gaze
Its cosmic realities dance
like ballerinas on a planetary stage
telling a tale in a glance.
but she’s a spy hunting down lies
Creating peace to balance
the scale of an unforgiving universe
caught up in its brilliance
It kills its inner angels for what?
To satisfy violence.

Break Us Down

Thrive on pain
Inflict suffering
Against us
And for us
All things are weapons to us
To break a soul down.
 
The good pass
We forget their ways
Speak kindly
And often
Instead we torture others
And for what, I ask?
 
A brief peace
By passing our pain
How about
We offer
To lift each other higher?
Together, we may yet rise.
~Thanks for reading! This was my attempt at a Shadorma poem (though it is more than one linked together). It follows a 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable pattern, without rhymes. I find I enjoy the syllable focused ones as it adds a new challenge with words.
~I will also add it was my entry into a challenge on Prose. They post their own challenges and users can, too. It is a great way to find inspiration if you need it!

To This Writer

Why I keep writing

 

It gives purpose.

It builds a home.

It joins lives.

It allows for calm, peace.

 

It fills a void.

It answers a call.

It sparks life.

It sedates anger, fear.

 

It adds to the light.

It takes from the dark.

It mediates experiences.

It awakens love, hope.

 

It is medicine.

It comforts the breaking.

It builds the broken.

It breaths help, justice.

 

It takes time.

It ages and dies.

It is born again and again.

It thinks on life, death.