counting backwards from 90

as I lay here, drawing my final breath,

the final hurdel fast approaching, I begin thinking of all the hurdels I have jumped, avioded and climbed under. but I do not want to die, I do not want to end here.

strapped to a ventalator, I make the consious decision to sit up in bed.

Nobody dies on there feet, I think

as the beeping and buzzing rings in my ears from all the machines around me,

they are keeping me alive, but hate when I am lively,

its not human to sit still, and while I still have breath within my lungs I want to live it.

nurses rush into the room and say “sir, relax, sir lay back”

but if I make the grave quicker I wouldn’t be counting my losses at this point in time,

I am sitting up, breathing heavily, fogging up my breathing mask,

I did it!, not much but I sat up all by myself,

one foot in the grave, and I can still move atleast half my body.


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