Infected

I've got cancer.
Isn't that sad?
Tragic?
So young,
Already on my way to the grave.
Eating at my insides,
I double over in its pain
And I laugh at the irony of it all.
Behind gritted teeth
I swear that it's not going to get me;
It had its chance,
Back when I thought death
Would be a welcomed diversion
To this trivialty of a life;
But now I've given up
On giving up
And my will is not going to bend
To this insignificance
That has set its sights on me.
I've got cancer.
Isn't that sad?
Tragic?
What a fucking joke.
It's just another obstacle
That stands between me and my life
And they can cut me open
A hundred times
Without tearing me apart.
My poison is stronger,
My determination will not falter,
Not to this,
Never to this disease;
I've already been infected
With the diease of life
And I will not fall
Beneath this weakness spreading inside me.