Forget or hang

There he sat. Babbling on about the jail bars. If only he knew what the rest of the world just so happenned to. That men of tall egos and short legs, who had nothing to do with him in life, were bickering like children over his fate. Not that his fate mattered anymore, now that his life had restarted. I stroked his head. He knew not who I was, nor who he was, merely that he was alive. I cry for him each night and day, praying they will allow him to die. It is more humane to let a man die, and remember his long life, rather than take away everything he knew and loved, and make him live life again.