When I die
Will I know who I really am?
No anxiety to hold me down
No disease to keep me in a bed

Will I breathe
And fill my lungs
For the first time in years
On my own?

Will I walk and run
Just like everyone else does?
Will people look at me
Without pity in their eyes?

And will I see you again
Without a forced smile
And tears
Rolling down your face?