The Sickest of the Sick

 

The Sickest of the Sick

Save a thought and another prayer for them,

With the expert Starship staff, spread so thin.

Each day the tumor’s growing and spreading,

Into an unpleasant mass of painful dreading.

Lying there in a ghastly state day and night,

Sentenced, held hostage, without respite.

The drugs and therapy so hard to ingest,

The thought of death so difficult to digest.

The look of anguish on each mother’s face,

Their desperation so difficult to erase.

Where is the doctor, where is the nurse?

To lend a hand, to ease this appalling curse.

The fatigue and breathlessness over again,

Fragile lungs desperately demanding oxygen.

The nausea, incessant vomiting and the runs,

The horrific stress on their heart and lungs.

Desperately fighting within the lucid dreams,

Body numbness, hands n feet, infant screams.

Delicate infants that easily bruise n bleed inside,

Brittle little nails and sensitive skin left really dry.

These children are among the sickest of the sick,

Distressed little bodies, tiny souls so angelic.

Fetch more doctors, summon more good nurses,

For these precious little lives deserve their chances.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (October 2026)