This is a poem I wrote about the fault in our stars. All rights go to John green for his amazing book.

I was dying.

I still am.

Most people don't know,

How it feels,

To be dying,

But not actually dead.

I began to believe,

I was something more,

More than a side-effect,

I was an explosive from the core.

I am a grenade,

And for my explosion I wait,

Hoping

Just hoping,

The casualties won't be great.

So I avoid love,

Compassion,

And admiration.

I avoid it because,

I don't want to hurt them.

I am selfless in this way,

But I am called brave.

When a nurse asked to rate my pain,

I couldn't speak,

So I held up nine fingers.

She came back calling me brave,

Because I rated a ten a nine,

But I am not brave,

The truth is,

I was saving my ten.

And this is it,

The great and terrible ten.

Not too long ago,

I found myself one day,

Attending a support group,

And that would stay the same.

But this particular day,

I ran Into a boy,

He stared at me the entire meeting,

So I stared back.

It became a staring contest,

Until he blinked.

I raised my eyebrows and shrugged,

I'd won quite easily.

Then the leader of support group,

Asked him to share some things,

He said,

"My name is Augustus Waters,

And I fear oblivion."

The leader of the support group,

Then asked for feedback.

I raised my hand up in the air,

And the boy smiled from ear to ear.

I spoke as direct as I could,

Pausing for occasional breaths.

"Oblivion is inevitable."

I said,

"So I suggest you ignore it."

When the meeting ended,

He caught up to me outside.

He asked me my name,

And I quickly replied.

"Hazel Grace Lancaster."

He just smiled and stared.

"Why are you staring at me?"

I asked,

"Because you're beautiful."

He said.

And at that wonderful moment,

He pulled out a cigarette.

"It's a metaphor Hazel Grace."

He said.

And so it went on,

And we became close friends.

Until one day,

We were together,

In the city of Amsterdam.

Our first kiss was shared,

In the house of Anne Frank.

It was the greatest trip of my life,

Until the very end.

Augustus took me for a walk,

And we sat down on a bench.

He told me his cancer had returned,

And he was basically made of it.

I cried and held him close,

I knew what this would mean.

I have cancer myself,

Thyroid in my lungs.

He had osteosarcoma,

And one of his legs was gone.

We returned home from Amsterdam,

And he was admitted to the hospital.

He asked me to write him a eulogy,

And I wrote it about him and me.

I wrote about infinities,

How some are bigger than others,

And I told him,

How grateful I am for ours.

He arranged a pre-funeral,

So he could hear the eulogies.

Isaac spoke first,

He was blind,

And our closest friend you see,

He spoke about being blind,

And scientists with robot eyes.

But he explained,

He doesn't want to see.

He doesn't want,

To see a world,

Without his best friend.

Now that is love.

Isaac and I both love him dearly.

And today we will speak,

At his actual funeral.

He died eight days after,

The pre-funeral happened.

Every second for me,

Worsens from the last.

It's hard to believe that he's gone,

That the world would let go,

Of the most wonderful person,

I've ever known.

The only thing I have left of him,

Is a note he wrote,

To an author named Van Houten.

He talks about me,

And my beauty,

He says,

"You never get tired,

Of looking at her.

I love her,

And I am so lucky to love her.

But you don't get to choose,

If you get hurt in this world,

But you do have some say,

In who hurts you.

I like my choices,

And I hope she likes hers."

I do Augustus,

I do.