I stare at
the frail
being
lying in
the bed.

That person
is you.
But it isn't
the real
you.

It's not the
strong man
that lifted
me up
when I
fell.

It's not the
man that
would smile ear to ear
and crack  
jokes.

It's not the
man
that stood tall
in boots and jeans
with a cowboy hat
on top.

It's not the man
that worked
hard
everyday despite
the pain.

It's a man that
has been broken
down from years
of torment.

It's a man that
is ready to
be set free
from the pain.

It's a man I
love dearly and
wished I didn't
have to say
good bye to.