Dying Alone

The bedside tray sits empty No get well cards No Flowers from that special someone The only sound is the life support monitor Counting down the beats to my last breath Yet death lingers And the dark finger of fate Dangles my life like a puppet on a string My visitor comes every two hours To check my pulse Check for a faint flicker in my eyes But really just waiting to throw a sheet Over my cold dead corpse. No one else comes. I hear a newborn baby crying in the distance. Fitting One on the way in, one on the way out The angel of death and the angel of mercy Exchange pleasantries outside my door. And so i wait Alone To die alone.