We stand in salutation,
Can you hear our elation?
Do you require another standing ovation?
Should we let you address the nation?
We watch them lie in sedation,
A faraway cry from our relation,
We send a delegation,
What else do you want as donation?
Pristine white rooms,
They only spell doom,
Another swept by the malignant broom,
Chemotherapy, radiation and other words that make the heart go boom!
Don’t you tire?
Dear quiet sire,
You cut off more than one wire,
Our whole bodies you freely hire.
Far from pure,
Sometimes we crave a cure,
Then back in remission you lure,
When will we ever be sure?
Our lives don’t mock,
Don’t count our time on a clock,
Stop calling us to your port to dock,
We only want to enjoy life with our folk.
