Options but no choices,

surrounded by love,

but no way out,

except death.

Lost hope,

but no energy to search.

Help is here,

but she lies there

hopeless,

helpless,

hiding behind her own mistakes.

Her own hopes and dreams,

foggy with no path to follow.

Is it depression

or just the cancer talking?

Maybe even both.

One because of the other,

Vise versa?

I guess we’ll never know

until it kills her

or she kills herself.

What’s a better way to live?

Knowing that you’re dying

and doing everything with your time left?

making your last months, weeks, days miserable,

while you pity yourself?

or looking forward to the day you die,

failing to see what’s ahead?