The Losing Battle

The Losing Battle

You tell me fighters never ever quit,
And if I won’t, I’ll beat this damned disease.
But I don’t know about that. Not a bit.

I take the time I have to try to squeeze
An extra minute (here or there) of joy;
Because I do not know that I will win.

I’m daily tempted to mock and destroy;
But this I must resist. It is a sin.
You see, maybe, this is what I must face:

That some will wax in life, while others wane.
Reality is now, this time, this space:
The daily, constant company
Of pain

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