It’s your condition.

only getting worse.

the never ceasing, 

trudge till the hearse.

They speak of light,

of a brighter side.

But it’s hard to see

when everyone around you has died.

Kicked out of your home.

Endless surgeries,

you’re only weaker and more fragile.

Your life seems to flee, 

but now the time has come.

The funeral and grand procession.

Your life is finally done,

your time’s coming to an end.

And as the mourners come

and grieve for their loved one,

no one notices you…

your the wooden coffin.