Miss Yumi,

I have a disease too you know, is what you said
When I told you about what kind of man I am.
It’s called sickle cell anemia, Is what was told to me
I looked it up and saw what price was on this disease.

You have to pay for it with a high amount of pain.
You can feel great and good, but then wham!
The pain strikes you and makes your day go wrong,
When it happens, you find your bed and ask stop, please?

The more I looked into the sickle cell, the more I thought: why?
Why would this even exist? None deserve to have it.
Least of all you, a kind and good hearted young lady.
The more I learned the more I resented it, most that you had it.

Now I wonder writing this, How long will it be, till you say your last goodbye?
Will you even have time to say good bye? Or will you die as you sit.
No pain, no gain is the saying. But this pain you had since you were a baby.
Life is unfair, your living proof of that, but you still have spirit.

No matter what happens you always smile and you’re always happy.
You try, oh so hard, to live a normal life, making the best of it.
But you never know when it will come again, the pain.
And when it happens, your friends share the pain you feel.

Wondering still, I’m dazzled by your ability to cope,
But how will we, your friends, cope when you lose?
What will we do, when your smile won’t be there anymore?
I pray that time will not come, but it is futile for we are mortal.

I have sickle cell anemia, with those words you told me.
With these words I end: I’m a sadist, I enjoy seeing pain,
But not this, not for you, I only enjoy it if one has something to gain.
But no one, not one living soul, will ever gain from you.

Bart Hak, a close friend

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