Pink Ribbons (Breast Cancer piece)

Part of my body
has been decomposing
little bits of death tickle my extremities
I bet you couldn't tell me
what a nervous laugh really sounds like
it strokes my bosoms
knowing that's what I'm into
but for some reason
this feels awkward
Grim reaper juggling pebbles of cancer
let it rest in my breasts
while you take a break
i am a loser now
my chest buried
with my confidence
locked away like a time capsule
keeping track
of what my top half is missing
Breast Cancer;
isn't reconstructive surgery
it's not taking a silicone back out
because your body rejected it
it's a satirical statement
God made and reneged
just to take a poll to see
which part was funnier
It's clear what was done out of spite
my shirt just hangs a little looser
hair a little shorter
the radiation from my chemo
has shaken my tolerance for medicine
out my system
I am reminded every day
of what i don't have
what little girls
who own a little too much money
and not enough fat have
silicones are just insensitive responses
to the lumps underneath my skin
who knew breast cancer
could be sought after this much
God uses my rib cage as his punch line
placing pink bracelets around wrists like shackles
as if you could comprehend
what it means to be a prisoner to your own body cage
a roaming zombie
anticipating grave sites
because this chamber,
whispers my eulogy
every time my immune system fails me
death rests above the soul
while my faith has taken a suicidal dive
What is there to hope for?
The one thing that defines me
Is the same thing you're now denying me.
Pink Ribbons cloak my prognosis
while the symptoms line dance between my cleavage
nip/tuck my nipples
and tattoo a purple heart where my chest use to be
You say, "Cancer, is not a death sentence."
But who's the one dying?