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Cancer
Every day
Her arms grow
Thinner
Her shirt
Becomes baggier
Her hair
Is wispier.
It is
Eating her--
Devouring her--
Her own cells
Have
Waged war
On her.
The doctor
Smiles at me
When I come in
Everyday.
The smile is fake,
His eyes
Are cloudy.
I come anyway,
Rain or snow,
Essays or not,
City bus or taxi,
I come to her bedside
And take
Her withered hand.
So that I
Can see
Her lips
Curl into a smile--
So that
It is all
Worth it.
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