I have a friend of mine fighting cancer. I lost my uncle and my grandma to this disease. I am not sure what end awaits me. Each morning I go out into life expecting to live a hundred. I want to be there for generations, forever. I plan to give it a fair try, one hundred is not a far cry! Someday I wish I could grow wings and fly.
Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.
Words are your wings... You do fly! Keep soaring.
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