I watched a man who used to move mountains wither away to just skin and bone.
Grey took the place of fleshtone and vigor.
Settled itself. Made itself home.
Varying beeps & spikes on machines.
Sterile white light & ceramic tile.
Losing control of all that he knows,
He wonders the halls with the mind of a child.
“I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Abandoned by love when he needed it most.
The going got tough and they ran for the north.
He sat alone, and started to wonder ---
“What have I done to you that was so wrong?”
He drank himself into a fever.
A violent flare.A deep dark depression.
He stood face to face with all of his fears and regrets
- With a bottle of Jack in his hand.
How could you go?
I dont know who you are anymore.
I am a saint, at least by comparing the actions I’ve taken to your cowards escape.
There’s more here at stake than just your consumption.
One day you’ll feel it when you’re dying alone.
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