Elizabeth Saylor

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Life Of A Patient

The boy sat in his bed with blankets up to his waist,
He was weak, cold, fragile.
As he sat, he listened to the monotone sounds of the hospital,
While growing lonelier every day.
Two weeks, plus days, was how long he had been there,
He was starting to lose track.
Every day he hoped to hear the good news from the doctor,
But instead, the cancer stayed.

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