What rhymes with cancer?

My mother.

But it’s not the introduction to death

That made me who I am,

It’s the thought of when I will take my own last breath.

When will I be burned into nothing more than a kilogram?

When my mom will die

I can not say,

But what she has taught me is to not let life fly by.

I realized I want to pursue ballet

And art

And unanswerable questions.

There is no time to waste, I shouldn’t guard my heart.

I need to be open to suggestions

And pursue what I love

Because tommorow,

I might be sent to the above

And life never goes slow.

 

What rhymes with my mother?

An author.

That is what I want to be.

It only took me a pound of doubt

And five hundred ten years divided by thirty

To figure that out.

But why should I write?

I couldn’t answer this for a long time.

Then I realized I want to shed light

And change people’s minds

On things like perfection,

Politics, and prejudice.

I need to inspire and create a new direction

Where people are open to forgiveness.

I want to make people laugh

And think and rejoice and cry

So when it is time to engrave my epitaph,

My books will still be here three hundred years from next July.

 

What rhymes with author?

Nothing other than her

I am her.  

I have no more time to live than anyone else

And I pray my life will never become a blur

Because I am myself.

I have no clue as to when I could die,

So I will try not to waste any time.

After all,

If my mom has taught me anything this year,

It is that life is always too small

And I love writing too much to not make it a career.