Man Without a Head

There is a certain man I know who has no head, And lifeless he lies within his cold, hard bed. He cannot think or discern to make a rational choice; He cannot eat or taste or lift up his voice. He cannot hear secrets, truths, whispers or yells; He cannot breathe the air or distinguish smells. He cannot read or see his way out, around his room; He cannot feel or hold to write, wash and groom. He cannot, even, lift his arms and legs at all, He cannot stand upright; he would only fall. So, paralyzed, he lies cold and hard upon his bed; Out of place and function, the headless man is dead.