It’s killing him… It’s ******* killing him! 
He can’t move on his own. 
He can barely speak. 
He is a little more than just flesh and bone, 
bound to a hospital bed, 
breathing hardly amidst the cough and phlegm. 
It’s killing him,
though his mind is as sharp as it’s always been.
He can feel the frustration;
he knows his body won’t respond to his brain’s commands.
He is desperate, yet he keeps fighting.
He’s stubborn, and won’t give up the fight.
He knows it’s killing him,
but he won’t die.
His strength is awe inspiring.
He knows he’s loved.
He knows they care.
He doesn’t want to leave them unprotected.
It’s killing him… It’s ******* killing him!
This I can’t bear to witness any longer.
It’s killing him… and it kills me too.