A fathers struggle

It's a fight, a struggle for your sense of will,
You may win the battle,
But the war has already been lost.
A loosing battle for your mind, your body, and in the end, your life
You get to watch,
You get to feel, as it tears you apart from the inside.
Yet your still expected to fight it,
When all you want is a moment of peace, of rest, a moment to let down your guard, to forget that youre sick,
A moment turns into a year,
And you barely notice your kids sitting by, begging you to fight it again.
You know that they're scared so you assure them daddy loves them.
Some days you wake insisting that the doctors are wrong, that your not sick, and explain this to the kids, but once again there goes your mood in a round about swing, the house is turned upside down, and as your hopes are shattered on the floor, all you can think is wow, I honestly just believed that God had just heard my prayers but its a struggle, and when you loose you ability to walk and to eat, who can blame you for loosing your drive to fight, so there goes the dad, the husband, the son, for he's just handed over his first name to a disease that had already won.