Kevorkian's Patients
As each day brings closer my coming demise,
my body grows weak, and my mind follows suit,
I was once robust but now can barely rise,
and my once able brain can hardly compute,
I'm waiting for the Angel of Death to come,
to take me away from this living hell,
from this body I will gladly succumb,
because I have no hope of getting well,
I will slowly float upward and see the bright light,
they will be jovial and covered in white,
and I'll live again like never before,
I want to go to that place in the sky,
for now I'll just wait here, waiting to die.