you lie in the hospital bed
antiseptics and hospital food waver in the air
as if, asking for permission to linger

and you see her tense, knowing she wants to scream
because how ironic it is-
you can barely speak

every few minutes the bed beneath you shakes
the only bit of movement your body sees

the ticking of the clock
is a constant reminder
you're never going to escape

soon she must go,
you find the darkness behind your eyelids
is easier to bare
when your so alone

later in time
you think of her
and then you think of mini her

once again you have no control
a tear slides down your cheek,
you're never going to watch her grow

your little daughter,
is going to live without a father
because cancer,
took away your life

and with no strength
how could you ever grasp
meaning in your last few days