Our Burden
By: Maxwell Stohr
The rust colored blood pours from our wounds like a geyser.
The gory brutality of it is too much for the casual person to bear.
But we live this horrible disarray every single day.
Our clothing shields the outside community from the disgusting barbarity we call scars.
We lock away the bloodcurdling memories in our minds and discard the key at the bottom of the ocean In the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, where it will never be found.
We must bear this grim burden each morn as the sun emerges from its nights slumber, and each night fall as the moon observes secretively from above.
We are all diverse, yet we are all ditto.
No two survivors claim duplicate chronicles, yet all of our adventures derided from a common dreadful diagnosis and similar terrifying and agonizing courses of treatments.
We have all been grasped by Death, and we all carry this overwhelming burden, that is what unites us as survivors, but not just survivors, Cancer Survivors.