A few years ago my brother was diagnosed with stage four lymphoma. He was literally on his death bed. The doctors gave him weeks and said that was optimistic. He was pumped full of the most powerful poison that they could give him. He went through treatments that go beyond most people’s idea of torture. In the process of all this I wrote the poem I am about to post for him. Years later he told me that he kept it and looked at it everyday to remember that he wanted to live. That all the pain was worth it. My brother getting sick was one of the worst things that could have happened but because it did we became best friends.