Lying in bed with tubes out of my wrist,
My eyes losing the sight of sparkling light,
Slowly fading into the endless night,
The pain under my ribs feels like a cyst.
I hold my heart clenched in a shaky fist,
Children across the sea, split up by flight,
To see them once again: my only plight.
Reflect upon thy love which life consists.
Why sulk when one can self-reflect on life?
Fill one’s leaky bucket with rain not tears,
Letting the holes dispose of mournful grief,
Choosing to reap the life of joy not strife.
Lying in bed with tubes in which I wear,
I pass into the realm, sensing relief.