Final Hour

The final hour has finally come, All too slow. I wish it didn’t have to be this way in a room of white and blue, Connected to machines so they know the time has arrived. Everyday has been painful but not today. I don’t feel the unforgettable pain of my insides failing one at a time. They said the test would help. They would cure. But they lied, I’ve learned never to believe the one’s wearing white. All the test did was worsen me, hair falling pass my eyes to the ground below, And I could nothing but wait for my final hour. I could only listen to the whispers of grief from those around. Why do you stand around and watch me shrivel away! Why is it all you do is hurt me, make me cry! Why! Please tell me why I have to go, I’m young I don’t want to go! But my pain is slowly leaving me, no strength left to fight. My body slowly flowing with happiness. I see old family waving and I relies my hour is up. My hour is up as the line runs straight for all to know