An itching cough like cancer stings my throat-
And in and out I breathe-
Like a boat upon the bay
My chest does sway within these sickly paper gowns.
And I have found that if I close my eyes, pretend my posture healthy,
I can feel the sun upon my skin again.
I’m hungry for some peace of mind, and pieces of a broken time-
When everything around me wasn’t gray.
Vitality has strayed so far, and like a broken alchemist’s jar,
Won’t ever hold up on his own again.
So sitting in fluorescent light I cough again with all my might
And hope that someone else will find the cure.
