I awaited my mother in the hospital,
For hours I stared at the wall.
I was but ten, and grew bored of this quickly,
Deciding to roam the halls.

The doctor approached, and called me by name.
"I have news for you," he said.
We made a sharp turn into the adjoining room,
He told me that mother was dead.

He informed me of the comlications,
Yet I felt it wasn't true.
Now, years later, I struggle to believe
That there was "nothing more we could do."