It was the day i found out.

I was in the car.

She told me he was really sick.

We didn't know what with yet,

but we were scared.

I tried to convince myself it wasn't as bad as it sounded,

When in reality i knew it was,

it was something much worse, 

than what we had originally thought,

It was that disease that strikes people dead all the time.

We were at the hospital.

It was an emergency.

They told us if he hadn't got the medicine that night

he could have died.

We wouldn't have him anymore.

There was a ton of sympathy.

But after a while even that wore off.

They moved on with their lives.

They don't care.

They say they do,

but i know they don't.

Because i  was in their footsteps.

 They don't understand.

They think that when he gets a little better it is all good

But i know It's not.

It isn't the flu, it isn't easy

You don't get over it just like that.

It could go on for the rest of his life.

Now they say that it will. 

His days are not as endless as they seem.

Six letters has never been so scary, 

I think of a way to rationalize it, 

but a simple word that starts with "c", 

sounds worse than the most vial cuss word,

at least to me,

He's been feeling better, 

But it's not the end.