This was what I wrote and thought about early on upon finding out I had BRAIN CANCER. I picked up a pen and the words became my heart. Every word written with tear drops hitting the paper. I coped. Many people with cancer feel completely alone in a crowded room. I suggest picking up a pen.
“And slowly she drifted into darkness, each piece cracking and ripping away, until there was nothing left. Alone. Always alone. They never realized how broken she was. Her smile was a mask. The mask she had worn for so long to hide, the poison living inside her. The sorrow. The anger. The silence. Her insides screamed a deafening tone. But no sound was ever made. The poison. It surrounded her. It suffocated her. She lost herself. She was just a body. Lifeless. Cold.
When the darkness finally took her, she did not scream. She did not cry. She did not care. She gave pieces of her soul to everyone around her but never took any for herself. If they only knew who she was on the inside. Emptiness flooded in her veins blacker than a cold starless night. When the darkness finally devoured her, she welcomed it. Her heart was bleeding. What should anyone care