My Antidote Won’t Cure My Disease

Life is a camera

Love is a diagnosis

My life is weather,

Friendship is an antidote

My disease had took over,

My antidote was not killing it off,

It was poisonous,

It was toxicated,

It stabbed me in the back.

My antidote didn’t know I was diagnosed,

My diagnosis had no idea I was diagnosed,

Only I knew,

I kept it secret,

I didn’t want people to know,

I didn’t know what I was doing,

My antidote was struggling,

I let it work its magic

And I felt it trickling onto my hand,

I felt superior over this disease,

I could live with my un-curable diagnosis,

Or make it come close to me and face it alone with no antidote,

I kept hold of my antidote,

I lived with my diagnosis.

My disease took control,

I felt rain drops on my head.

It was dark,

But I wanted light,

It was unstoppable,

It later changed,

The disease became stronger and fed off its failures,

It produced light which appeared in front of me and my disease,

The antidote was left in darkness,

All alone,

I moved towards the light and said,

“I love you.”