Miserabilia - Hospice

In the dark operating room I was placed in your care:
Your mask was surgical - seamless - and kept there with care.

You lay down beside me; I pried open my flesh,
A sigh and a cold needle stitched it with care.

My blood's red and angry as a victim's heart monitor;
My oxygen's thinning but you don't seem to care.

Calmly and primly and pure as talcum powder,
These eyes seem to say "I would care - I would care."

Sickened and dying but my heart will not stop for you,
My cancers cry out and you'll leave me to Fate's care.

I am holding my breath in a thousand dim wards,
We are chained to this sterile death row: please take care.

The End

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