Today I had a short but very serious <br />conversation with the tumor <br />on the back of my head. Now the size of a nectarine, <br />it has developed a mind of its own. It demands <br />clean pillow cases and more of my attention <br />than I care to offer. It oozes the thick tears <br />of a yellow death as it pleads with me to take its life. <br />It demands heavier medication; I withhold it. <br />I know the rules. Pain is all relative. <br />Relief comes in a pill. <br />The blues ones make you crazy. <br />The yellow ones are for emergencies. <br />The red, take those and you’re dead. <br />The tumor on my head begs me for those red ones…. <br /> <br /> <br />2009 © TS<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/having-a-sense-of-tumor/
