A gestural Bad omen upon thy departure,
Wide awake with mistresses in white dresses,
Radically rude nor haunted by hate of fate,
Perjured to be doctors right hand man, thou
Canst bear any more napkins nor feeding skeletons,
Ward of changing faces, daily new files and sheets,
Dwell to witness Groan and roar men, Die of torment,
Terror nor Trauma, Thou Death be thy ally, savior

Nor conciliator, with thee thy flash rest ‘n soul delivery
Unto thy maker, No more garden of life nor a dream land
thy wish not to be, Shall there be any better way to die?
If dost in white dresses be swell’st Mistresses, well beseem
Of Proven quest, Passionate, and delicate, this be no
Army for every Brave men