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I'm Dying Anyway

These sheets white and crisp.
Antiseptic stings my nose.
The needle juts out from my hand.
Death surrounding me with every turn.
Midnight checkups as soon as you're asleep.
Oh how I miss my soft quilt and bed.
The smells of Italian food in the kitchen.
And the people around me adorn smiles.
Is it necessary to keep me in this sanitary jail cell?
I'm dying anyway..

April 5, 2009