cancer, death, Emotions, Family, Father


By: Mia L. Hazlett

Today, a thief knocked and entered the house to stay.
He chose his host, got comfortable, and prepared to take a life away.

We begged and pleaded for him, to leave and never ever return,
But he just introduced himself, Stage 3, his name I learned.

This thief well he wreaked havoc, with his mighty invisible sword.
Causing wounds beyond his host, to those who would one day mourn.

Thief had a way of making, the richest man seem so poor.
Because by the time Winter made way, he called himself Stage 4.

There was absolutely no consoling me, as I let my tears pour down.
For almost a year I watched, as Stage 4 took pound for pound.

Then on an early July morning, my day turned horribly bad.
I went and sat at his bedside, and watched a thief steal my sweet sweet dad.

© 2018

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