National Cancer Institute

You Ill

In all honesty,
I wish
I could say
I didn’t wish
You ill.

But that,
In truth,
Would be
A lie.

Vengeance is
Not mine.
But suffering,
I could share.

As you pant,
Fevered cheek
To cold tile,
Dying to live,

Will you think
Of me,
Or someone,
Anyone but
Yourself?

You’ll never know
Unless you try.