My body's stained with the proof,
of all of my regrets.
All those things I thought had mattered;
I later learned, I would forget.
My mind is now a mess.
Just fragments of a story.
One I can no longer read.
For the sentences have gone blurry.
I try my best to hold onto,
The life that I once knew.
Of coffee cups, of cigarette butts,
of and old Chevy truck named Blue.
Loved ones names come and go.
Their faces all look the same.
I don't understand why my legs won't work.
Why my body is in so much pain.
Like a flower blooming in the spring.
And like the trees dying in the fall.
Every body and mind have a season.
And mine is slowly coming to a stall.
Now, here I lay, on a rough white sheet.
Where I'm stuffed with tubes and hand fed.
No longer am I anything,
but a man in a hospital bed.
For my grandpa.