It takes years to unlearn the biology,
to pick apart cells under a microscope.
I’m just trying to tell a story.
I live for the day theory turns to probability,
because even when the possibility is remote
it takes years to unlearn the biology.
Child after child with their parents in mourning
the cancer breaks apart their hope.
If they’re gone, is there still a story?
My research in the lab is not obligatory,
but study and discovery are on a tightrope
in the years it takes to unlearn the biology.
One treatment left for my son before he
passed. My syringe a vial way to cope
because he didn’t finish his story.
These equations lock me in purgatory,
and their tiny smiles keep me afloat.
It takes years to unlearn the biology,
but I just want to continue their story.