stilton and celery soup

stilton and celery soup
was all you could taste
it was all we made for months
what’s for dinner
hang on let me finish the soup
can you get some more out the freezer?
i thought it smelt of feet
but that’s the thing about cancer
it takes things away from you
your ability to be fussy
your name
it’s a mosquito
it feeds
and feeds
and with its filthy wings
flies to fuck up another family
and just leaves them with paper thin uncles
and tear dried fathers
found the recipe for the soup the other day
still tastes like shit

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This poem attempts to describe the anger and the bitterness one becomes enveloped by when grieving.