The Death Sentence

I heard the words as he sat, There in his white coat. His kind and caring eyes, Looking, silently yet dreaded, What he had just said. Those deadly words, That would likely end my life. Without blinking, he ended with, These 3 words everyone seems to say, "I am sorry." All I can think is, you are ripping the, Milk and honey of the god's from my body. I feel I have no choice or decision. I sit there and contemplate, Death or riddle my body with poison, To take away the disease that has, Engulfed my body and soul. Now as a woman all that remains, Is but a shell and a nightmare, I have to live thru. Is it really a decision or, Just a Death sentence?