Drip, drop, drip, drop, I sat there and stared As the IVs never stopped. Rhythm ever so predictable Much like percussions, If only they were danceable. Drop, drip, drop, drip, I listened day and night The longest ones in my life. Restrained, bound, contained, No options for escape, No exits for a Runaway. In every drop, every drip, Reminiscent of my tears, As I conquer all my fears.
#TinySpringPoem with Beth Kempton | Day 4

💡 Nearly losing my life in 2022, I was taken to the ER in the middle of the night and stayed hospitalized for two weeks before being allowed to fly back to the US.
👀 Read more of my Poetry.
So glad you are here to share your stories with us Jen. 🙏🏻😌
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