~ Machines

Sat, 08/01/2015 - 13:04 -- illona

They say what doesn't kill you,

makes you stronger.

The poison dripping into his veins,

makes his life longer.

I look around at loved ones,

there to hold their hand.

The colour like sunshine in her cheeks,

whilst his is grey and bleak.

But his eyes still sparkle,

as he looks to his love.

In sickness and in health.

She promised to stand by him,

through sadness and wealth.

She searches for words,

whilst the doctors search for cures.

When their love is pure,

how much more should they have to endure?


This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741