The dying patient's last wish
Do what you will with my decrepit body,
throw it to the wolves, recycle it, just let me die;
my only wish is this:
please don't commit me to the hospital.
Don't let them operate me
for a bleak postponement of inevitable death
in an invalidated body without functions
for my soul's imprisonment for nothing
just to make death's torture even worse.
If I must die, just let me exit quickly
without sentimental painful long farewells
that only aggrandize the pain
and makes death worse,
which every action must do
that makes the divorce just more unbearable.
I will have music, though,
the only ease from life's atrocious pains,
the only thing that makes reality less ugly;
so let me die triumphant in the roars of music oceans,
and I will depart alone in loneliness
and gladly vanish from your sight
thus sparing any suffering on your side
sneaking over to the other side
as noiselessly as possible
without a sound but with the music roaring.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2007-02-13 at 20:46
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