The voice began to speak in spiteful tongue
I thought of what things I had done
Could I had done things another way?
The voice would never say
I suppose I just never thought
That in an illness grip I'd be caught
The voice put things into my mind
Things so heartbreaking and unkind
I chose not to speak of it aloud
'It won't happen', to myself I vowed
So here I am staring at the ceiling
An impending doom kind of feeling
The worries voice begin to taunt
Preying on my mind, full of haunt
I'm there, bare, naked and small
Into the depths of uncertainty I fall
The voice is calling my name
I try not to listen in vain
The doctor and his magic hands
Made the voice listen and understand
The voice listened with a respectful ear
I am ok, of my body I need not fear
I thought I had been betrayed by it
Being ill is scary and shit
After my visit to the hospital
The voice no longer need ever call
It can try to call my name
But it shall all be in vain
The voice of worry can now leave
It's web of worry, elsewhere to weave
©Kim Brown 14th September 2012
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