And the spoons were misleading.
The mouth opened, and with each
globule of fat taken... the heart died
a little more... And I... 'sigh'... I cried a
little. The doc gave me six months...
The heart couldn't deal with it any
longer.
As I sit in this bed of horror...
wondering whether my legs would
still lift me... or falter, as my lungs
send out an aching cry, with each
harsh wheeze they long to die...
No bother... Why bother? Why even
care? To cry out my heartache,
to scream to the God who made
life unfair, and portioned His spoon
into my mouth... with destiny's
main course...
Another soft drink?
Hand it over!
Another cigarette?
Why even ask?!
Another heart palpitation...
Only silence follows, and I cry...
©spilvenr
S