Rotting ; I lay;
The sardonic ‘ no-more operation’ flows,
The beautiful scarlet blood adorns the nose.
I have stopped to complain for I love the tears ;
At least the fever loves me; so does the blood;
You freed me , giving my hand to the trident Lord.
This fragile body is nothing but an albatross;
I feel the levity of my soul, willing to leave ;
For I am needed no more, you made me believe.
Discomfited , the dark shades fill the oxygen and saline;
I don’t gasp for breath; the earthly air is not mine ;
I wait for my lord to take me to his abode!!