Here is a poem I wrote while at in-center hemo at a Duh-vita.
A Place
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There is a place that I know where people go to save their life,
a place where normal people have no idea of the turmoil that
goes inside this place. Sadness, despair,lonelyness, severe emotional
trauma. The kind of trauma that makes you wonder when will it
be my time and knowing it's only a matter of time until you're in
the same deathline as the person next to you. There is no cure,
there is no hope, we just need to try to cope. Everyday is a battle
wondering why this happened to me, I live because a machine keeps
me alive. Hooked to a machine is no way to live, even if it's only 3
times a week you may say. I dare you you to sit in my place for just
one of those days. New patients make me sad, I see in their eyes
confusion and fear. I want to tell them don't worry it will be alright
but it won't be they will have many sleepless nights. They try to act
strong and did I, but you know they to wonder why? why them?
why me? What did I do to deserve such a fate. And you wonder
why I am always late to this place where people are saved by a
machine, would you be in a rush to be flushed? I think not. Oh did
I mention I might clot? this place allows me to urinate through my
blood, it takes out the bad, to bad it can't take out the sad. Am I
bitter am I mad more than you could ever understand. You can try
to understand but just pray you are never forced to understand.
I will have no choice but to come to this place until the day they roll
me out in a crate. That is the day my suffering ends once and for all.
Will I miss this place? not at all.
Bill "Epoman" Halcomb
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