Birthing a Sarcoma

Scratches, kicks,
punches, fights to stay
in the host.

It will take my intestines with it, if
it could.

A toxic concoction splatters and
the mass is shown to me.

Unhinging malformed arms and legs so the
joints move backwards and forwards.

Dribbling puss from curled lips onto
pocked skin.

If I would have killed it sooner.
I wish I had.

Please find “Birthing a Sarcoma”, a poem about surviving cancer:

Birthing a Sarcoma

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