But first a little side note, if anyone could spare a little extra money to help a wonderful kid, it would be greatly appreciated. Below is an excerpt from his mom from their gofundme.com page. It’s not every day that we can actually do** something to make a difference but in this case, every little bit helps. Cancer is a fucking bastard.
“My dear, sweet son Otto has been diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma. He just turned five last month, and became ill suddenly just a few weeks ago. The last month has been a whirlwind of testing, doctor’s appointments, and specialists. We were admitted to the hospital when his symptoms and his pain became too severe, and finally received our devastating diagnosis after several days.
As his mother, I cannot bear to leave him right now. My only baby is afraid, angry, and in so much pain. I don’t know any mom who would feel differently.
Unfortunately, taking care of my boy means that I can’t work. While FMLA will protect my job so that I can return there when this is all over, I am the breadwinner for our little family. We just bought our first home in October and would despair to lose it and have nowhere to bring Otto home to when the time comes. My paid time off allotment will already run out as of this Friday, barely a week after we brought him in.
We need your help to cover his medical expenses as well as funds to keep us going so that we can continue to support him here in the hospital. We have already received such an outpouring of love and support, but we still have such a very long way to go. I know our goal seems like such a large number, but every small amount will help us.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”
The words disappear beneath the shadow of hands
Ink-stained knuckles curve into fists of anxious frustration
I hide this self only as much as I can pretend
With the challenge of mind led by the weight of suppression
The truth is acknowledged by those in its possession
Absent in substance, despite how it’s being written
We accept in ignorance what we abandon in submission
Perverting blind desolation while claiming “It is I who apprehends!”
Well, who I am to desecrate this movement?
As I sit here losing hope from the promise of creation
Devising rhyming riddles of expectations to offend
Only to deaden the void from the torment of corporate stagnation
The page glares in indignant accusation
With a delighted radiancy desirous to transcend
I always succumb to suffer its carnal predation
As it is, who cares? we all die in the end
I am grateful for friends and family ❤