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This world is full of heavy stuff
Things like War on Terrorism and the Great Recession
Assisted suicide and chronic depression
Starvation and hurricanes and abandonment
Racism and abortion and fatal ailments
I would know.
I was born on 9/11.
My mother died from cancer
And guess what I have it too.
Save your looks of surprise and pity
Because its true.
It comes and goes whenever it pleases
But I won't cry bout the heavy cause the fact is
I'll die sooner or later, if not from cancer then old age
It's a fact of life, not one to be denied or to fill me with rage
I refuse to live in a cage where I blame everyone else
For what is just another part of me
Just like you have habits and a bunch of hobbies
One of mine is getting rid of tumors through surgery
But don't feel bad and look at me as 'Him, the disease'
View me as the person that I am trying to be
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