When my eyes are wide awake,
I see people in scrubs.
You get to sleep in your own cot,
and I get to stare at the same spot.
I wish to stay in a place noisy,
rather than feeling lousy.
I know that the pain is thine,
but seldom I hear is, Honey its gonna be fine.
Thoughts in my mind swirl,
maybe that’s why I’m called the sick girl.
Couple days ago, I was shooting hoop
and here I am feeling like I’m gonna swoop.
Do you know what else is a nightmare?
Losing a bunch of hair.
You get to watch your dog dig,
where I run around shops to find a wig.
You get to happily pack your convenient school bag,
where I weep over my hospital bag.
And do I want to hear your story?
Because I would rather not.
-MJ