Cancer
It was a Tuesday,
when they said it was cancer;
it was a bad day.
It was a Friday,
when they said there was no hope;
just days of chemo.
It was a Sunday,
when she thought about her life;
left with nothing to say.
It was a Monday,
when she contemplated death;
hindrance, or joy?
On a Wednesday,
death arrived and cleansed her;
from her manmade shell.
It was a Thursday,
when people came to visit;
too late, not enough.
On Saturday,
her soul floated to heaven;
no longer haunted.
