As the fire filled my blackened lungs
and I knew that my time had finally come,
I gazed to the skies at the falling sun
And thought to myself how my life was fun
Years of crying over something dumb
I wish I could gather those tears my heart had spun
Maybe then my time here now, wouldn't be done
Now all I can do is lift up this gun
And smile because I've had a pretty good run.
This is a poem I wrote that is about accepting an illness that has taken you, and looking back at your life. Often times when we look back all the tiny things that used to cause us a great deal of anxiety or pain, we realize they weren't a big deal or that they didn't really matter at all. Focus on what is really important to you, and hold onto that. You never know when you or a loved one will grow their pair of wings.
The Illness: The fire It's manifestation: The blackened lungs The acceptance: The gun Nearing death: The falling sun Different life choices: The tears