Each and every single one of them did the exact same
Shaved their hair for my cause and my cause alone
Right to the bone of their very existence
These people, they never, ever asked or needed for their names to be put in print, or lights for that matter
Surely the least that I can do for their utterly supportive, not to mention unwavering endeavour
Even if either way I am still going to need a brand new marrow
Put plain and simple, they managed to unequivocally narrow the pathway of pain one way or other
These people, goddamnit, they had their own sisters, own brothers
Fundraising, a worthwhile penny or ten placed inside of a rusty old bucket
All in aid of innumerable and nauseating visits put paid to hospital time and time again
These particular nurses nothing but heaven-sent – learned, all too wary of a patient’s disdain, coursing
Sweat pouring on out of each and every single one of them, creating the wrong kind of river all round
Resoundingly, unashamedly diluted
Agonisingly polluted
So far from cloud nine it couldn’t but hurt
A translucent tube only ever offering up unpromising squirts of hope
Painting anything but a glorious picture
I dreaded what might be my own scripture
Continual cursing on my part, the absolute worse for wear
Getting by on a wing and a prayer
‘Til the doctor pulls up a chair, crosses his legs and says “Brian, I am only here to bring you good news.”

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