Does the virus do me in, or does the cancer
In my blood?  A crappy little cold runs rampant,
Brushing past the hordes of crippled white cells
Meant to end its reign.  The cells are useless
Child soldiers, more adept at clogging up my vessels
Than they are at ending threats to me.  They are,
In fact, a second threat, an army in rebellion,
Which, at best, will fight this new invader for
The chance to seize my body and erase my life.