The disdain I etch on my face is accidental,
I assure you with much bowing and scraping...
The simple control of the action of face-etching is lacking,
Purely because I'm dying...
Chemo worked for a while,
So did Radiation,
Finally nothing else worked,
And now I'm here;
With my chaotic emotions etched on my face for others to read;
My voice long silent,
My tears long dry,
My body reduced to skin and bone,
My life past its expiry date.
So, please, read my etchings with some mercy,
For my passion and my love for you are all that will remain in the end.