The Overwhelming Nature of Anger
When I was diagnosed with cancer
I told God I could manage it so long
as something good came from it.
That Summer, when I needed you the most,
you weren't there. Instead,
you were busy falling down a deep well
of suicidal ideation.
Later, you told me you held on
because putting me through that while I was
laying in a hospital bed near-dying
wasn't something you could do.
In some fucked up paradox, the cancer
saved your life. I thought maybe things
would be differentó
But they're not.
It wasn't my gift, but please,
stop throwing it away.