A cancer of your thoughts. All beliefs, feelings, judgements, and more; negative. So negative and undesirable that these thoughts become damaging and destructive; property of demons. The demons that swirl around in your mind, lurking in the shadows. Waiting. Waiting to break down your chemistry and sway you. Sway you away.
Cancer-free. That was my Morgan. Born with benign thoughts. Unknowingly diseased with this horrible Thought Cancer the night he placed his beautiful feet on those yellow footprints, March 8, 2015. No longer benign. The start of malignancy.
The cancer rapidly deteriorating his mind; fueling the demons waiting to take control. Instrumenting self-infliction. No other treatment in sight. Chemo. Maybe.
Morgan’s first round of chemo was his discharge from the Corp. Entry Level Separation is what they termed it. Instead of helping him, they ridiculed him. Mocked him. Infected his already compromised mind.
The other rounds? So temporary. Intermittently putting his Thought Cancer into remission. These remissions that gave him the little strength needed to push through and seek additional new treatments in lifting and college. Pacifying his mind and keeping the demons in the shadows. But, as many cancer treatments do, his remissions terminated and his cancer returned and devoured him. More aggressive than the last time. Over and over again.
In the end, it was just that, the end. End of his chemo. End of his remission, and the final end to his malignant spirit. End to his suffering. End to his pain. End to his life.
My Morgan; gone.
Fuck You Thought Cancer ~ You Took My Son.
Daly Chronicles 