I honestly don't like this this one, I wasn't even depressed when I wrote it.
--
I sit by her bed,
I hold her hand,
I cry,
I pray.
Don't worry, I tell her.
It's only cancer.
I was lying,
I knew I was only pretending to convince her
and myself.
It's a good thing I repented in my pleas to the Almighty,
And told her I was sorry.
I hope she, too, knew I wasn't
Completely truthful,
Because fifteen minutes later, it was
Too late.
I leaned my head forward, against hers;
It was relaxed,
Finally peaceful.
She was free now.
But what about me?
I had seen her die.
The image of her agonized face,
Giving in,
And falling asleep,
Is scarred into my brain forever.
It would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I couldn't live with that.
From then, day and night were the same.
I thought the gun was a hallucination,
But when it hurt and the blood flowed,
I still smiled before
I, too,
Slept.
