tumor
A poem
undiagnosed.
what carcinogen did i consume?
what made the turning point,
how could i have known?
it was just there,
infinitesimal, just below
my heart, rate slowed at every
minute growth spurt,
it feeds on me,
weeks on end of seething, not speaking,
just watching the world,
passive around me,
then the first mouth,
initially obscured, but now a
tooth, then more, observed
emerging from the mound,
spouting new sounds,
yelling out to those outside, they’re lies,
listeners don’t know
my lips didn’t procure them,
once it gains gums,
canines, begins to eat organ walls,
flesh digesting in its newly formed
miniature stomach,
follicles, hair,
tied snugly, obstructing aorta,
the abomination uses it
as a straw to drink my life,
as a tumor,
it loves more than ever, more than others,
ever-growing being, teratoma,
tortured long as it’s trapped in me,
doctors don’t see,
the weight clearly overeating,
imagine their surprise when they find it!
unbeatable by surgery, too stuck to my being, still
growing after i’m gone.
Chris Taylor is a young writer who creates poetry as a coping mechanism, sharing it as a way to connect with others. In their spare time, they enjoy spending time around dogs, family, and listening to electronic and alternative music.
