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.
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