Inhumane Treatment for the Sake of Existence

If you were a dog
we'd have put you sleep
before the loss of memory
and dragging of feet
before the confusion
and constant frustration
haunted with the knowledge
your life would be taken.


The jumbled speech
and declining sight
the fears that kept 
you up at night
the lack of food
going into your system
the morphine drip
and doctors inspections.


The saddened look
tired with the existence
we watched as you suffered
trapped in cancerous prison.
We listened as you asked
with exhausted lack of amusement
to end your life
at the time of your choosing.


© Matthew Nicholson
20/7/2014

cancerdebateeuthenasiaexistencePoemreal liferhyme

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