There you lie, bedridden and plagued with sickness,
The imbalance: ever fluctuating, ever vicious,
Evoking my deepest fears: another loss
Another fine line crossed.

Now I sit by your side, weary,
Your recovery – I theory;
I hold your hand, raise and kiss it,
Tears fall silently as reality hits.
I can’t help but ask why
Should you be the one to die?
What have you done to deserve this?
What rights have to decided to twist?
I blame Him, I blame the world.

Time ticks, and my heart grows cold,
The future is untold,
Yet I need to know, I beg to know:
What will happen if you go?
What will I do without you?
I cannot imagine what I’d do.
I can only pray so much,
Hope so much;
I am powerless to this,
But I only hold one wish:
For you to recover and come back,
Because my optimism is beginning to crack
And soon I will be rapt with anger and pain,
And if you leave, the hell will return again.

Hours have passed, and I still watch you,
Eyes shut, dreaming of a world so cold,
But you will come back, I’m sure of it,
I’m so sure of it.


3 thoughts on “Plague

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