immune my body against these nosocomial pathogens,
cleanse my tissues from the infection they’ve caused,
save my cells from these metastasised devils.
operate on my brain but don’t wash it white,
remove the tumour and stitch my skin with fibula.
my limbs feel numb; say it’s because of anaesthesia,
’cause i’m afraid of post-operatve dyskinesia.
my eyes are too sensitive to light and too poor to see in dark;
buoyant rays burn my tears and promises trigger my fears.
let the adrenaline rush in my veins as my arteries are blocked.
let me breathe carbon; my lungs are prepared for holocaust,
but i won’t bleed to life because my blood has rusted.
peel off my skin and you’ll find i’m just like you
don’t show mercy then, karma will strike you.
I had forgotten it was my first post :p Thanks for the challenge.