Hey Mitzi, this is a more psychological thing than it is a poem, but hey, w.e.
I Write This As You Lay Under My Arm
Stiff, But Concious.
You Don't Seem To Always Know Who I Am Because You Stare Is Often Blank, But You Lay Concious.
It's Alright. You've Lived. You've Walked A Mile.
I Love You. I Write This Tears Roll Down My Cheeks. I Can Do Nothing But Pray And Watch Your Physical Responses.
Your Asleep, but Your Eyes Are Half Open And You Seem To Stare At Something In The Distance.
Beyond Me. Beyond Anything.
I'm Sorry I Can't Afford To Get You Any Professional Help, As You Suffer A Stroke.
Your A Cat And You Can't Read. But That's Okay, Because Your Exceptional.
Remember At Times, When No One Was Home At It Was Just You And Me, And I'd Protect You And You'd Protect Me?
I Wish I Could Protect You, But I can't Protect You From Yourself.
Unfinished, Sorry.
