  The steady, pulsing rhythm wavered and shook,
And your rivers of blood thinned into brooks.
Lights flickered past closed eyelids; your darkness torn to shreds,
And alone you lay, open and bleeding, on your desolate hospital bed.
Steel needles poke through your flesh to keep your rivers flowing.
Don't you wish you had the strength to rip them out, and finally start their slowing?
How long have you lain here, hopeless and alone?
How many times have you cried for help, and still no one has shown?
What's it like to be forgotten, not dead, but never born?
How does it feel to be extinct and know no one cares to mourn?
And, inscribed on your tombstone, what will it say?
Will you even be remembered, or shall your blood simply be washed away?
How much longer will it take them to realize you're dead?
How much longer must you lay here, in your desolate hospital bed?
The steady, pulsing rhythm has stopped now, and your time has almost come.
But not before you can realize you've died as nothing but scum.
 Adhesive Medical Strip · Sun Feb 10, 2008 @ 10:11pm · 4 Comments |
