The words I have shall never sound, and
The actions I wish upon thee will never land.
You think you have the upper hand
But you know nothing, sad and foul.

I am dying can’t you see, I’m
Wilting before your eyes.
You must change quickly, or should I
Make me blind what darkness I see?

I fight death, not planned of course.
It is in the moment he comes.
Changing patterns mid-poem?
You’d understand if you noticed my mood swings
And all the other little signs.

But you don’t try...
Just another reason why.