It's all over.
There's nothing left for me.
I lie in a bed,
Awaiting the reaper.
You clutch memories;
Granny giving you baths,
Granny making cookies,
Granny kissing you goodnight,
And tears fall when it's suggested.
I want to die.
Granny cannot hug you.
Granny cannot kiss you,
Or sing you lullabies,
Or tell you stories.
Granny is a vegetable.
Vegetables are not happy.
Vegetables are the unwanted
Occupants of a dinner plate,
Kept solely by force.
No one wants the vegetables.
Let me die.
We have the same memories,
But we see them differently.
You see Granny as the best,
But I see a little child
That doesn't know Granny is gone.
I am not the woman who kissed you.
I am not the woman who bathed you.
I am not the woman who made cookies.
I am a vegetable,
Feeling everything afflicted on me.
So, please, just let me die.
God didn't invest much in body
a rotting skelatal fatted with disposable flesh
never built to last
just a temporary resting place
for a tired soul for a night's respite.
The soul forever
made to escape
the putrid stench
if by human hand
I hope they heard
In the wake of a brand new day
I stare at the railings of my hospital bed
I told them that I found the way
I spoke about everything that needed to be said.
And yet their faces show only remorse
at my reluctant saving grace
and our relationship now is coarse
they can't look me straight in the face.
I've told my final goodbyes
I've given them a final hug
I couldn't bare anymore lies
I couldn't swipe it under the rug
I know I was a burden
I was a mess
a cripple all of a sudden
or perhaps something less
For all basic needs
I needed someone's help
And now my heart bleeds
Being just a whelp.
is my final word...
as I fall to abyss...
as i take my final breath...
I hope they heard...
If You Love Me
I need you now to help me end my life
But peacefully, not stabbed with any knife
The quality has soured beyond all pain
The tears fall freely now just like the rain
I seek relief from all my inner strife
It gives you pause, I know, I am your wife
But this I ask of you, not once but twice
If I can't know your face we've naught to gain
I need you now
I feel I'm putting you inside a vice
And squeezing you until you pay the price
But many days I've lain here all in vain
My memory just crumbling, I'm not sane
My choice is not the rolling of the dice
I need you now
I was fourteen years old when the old man with shaking hands told me not to plug in his breathing machine. He left me a gold ring, a large book about wolves, and several unfinished toy boats with wire railings.
Death wish or Why would you side with a patient but not an emo
Everyone that cared, stopped.
They say I can endure through it.
All the pills that helped, stopped.
Nobody understands the pain of it.
Death becomes the only escape.
Relief from this hellish world,
to which I would leave only my pain.
(just as a ps note. Removing harsh criticism as suggested in the challenge removes opinions and you're killing a discussion. And for religious dogma, you're basically removing the opposition, the loudest voice that is in the discussion protecting our right to life. I'm not siding with them, but you are completely denying them a voice in it.)