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My Bed (Dying in)

Poetry By: Zippydoda
Poetry


Dying with dignity?


Submitted:Oct 10, 2012    Reads: 4    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


My Bed

I've taken to my bed you see, due to my doctors diagnosing the big C.

I don't want to die, the thought just makes me cry.

My wife she understands, she sits by my bed holding hands.

She brings me tea and cake, dinner too, I just feel sick, what a to-do.

My cancer has no cure, due to the laws the pain I must endure.

The powers that be refuse my death to be a dignity.

My wife she cries she cannot cope, in fact all that meet me show no hope.

All I want to do is die in my bed, with happy memories in my head.

But this is not allowed, the powers that be will find my wife guilty if she ever dare help me.

Dignity, dignity, is all I ask, what a bloody farce.

The Law Lords sit upon their collective arse, faceless in their common task.

Protecting, the law for one and all, saving the innocent and vulnerable.

Keeping criminals inside the prison wall, allowing innocents to walk tall.

I have committed no crime, I apparently have served my time.

Why won't these sanctimonious bastards allow my release.

I'll have to fly you see, to Switzerland without my Family.

To die alone without my bed, with the thought of these horrible fuckers in my head.

Law Lords all around not one piece of sanity to be found.





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