'Bout the size of a knot,
It is stopping me from taking deep breaths,
And from doing a lot,
Making me think of all I've never done,
For what if it ne'er leaves?
Restricting me from now 'til ever more,
As sudden and real as Christopher Reeves,
Never again will I check my blind spot,
All others must beware,
My cells will slowly die and then decay,
For total lack of air,
What will they say?
'Here lies a man that died,
Not old, regretting what he did not do,
But ere truly knowing what 'fore him lied.'