Breast Cancer
© 2013 by K.Lowry
The scraping scalpel leaves no flesh,
Doctors claim poison and mutilation are best.
I will not be reconstructed
Just because my breasts are busted.
My body is scarred, my health will never heal
Cancer is a lifelong deal.
It nipped, then ripped, and then it ravaged,
Leaving so many of us feeling savaged.
Scraping scalpel, stabbing needles,
Regardless of critics or those who wheedle,
I will not, will not be reconstructed
Just because my breasts are busted.
Who?
K.Lowry
©2013
I stand before a mirror and what I see
Is someone I do not know looking at me.
Averting my gaze, I try to hide from my reflection.
To no avail, it is far from perfection
Who is this person looking at me?
I am her, but she is not me.
Who is that person, why is she there?
Why it is that I just cannot seem to care?
She doesn't know of who I am, nor I of her.
Yet we are the same person, dual in nature.
Holes and punctures, scarred gashes on my chest,
My mind is now never at rest.
No matter how much that person looks at me and is there,
And I wish she was not.
I am her, but she is not me.
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