As I Lay On My Death Bed

The last few hours of my life Felt like an eternity. My ever so frail, disintegrating body Endured the fight of a lifetime, Struggling with every inhale And exhale of air. My thoughts were hopeless. As I lay on the putrid smelling mattress That I had rescued from the local Dump only months before, I realized that I was already dead, And had been for nearly Three quarters of a century. My soul had been a prisoner of death Since the day that I gave up on myself And began to live the life that everyone Else expected and thought was best for me. My soul had died at the radiant age of Thirteen, while the death of my body Was a few struggling breaths away.