Sick is insufficient. So is bad.
The more complex terms no longer seem real;
So much for all the learning that I've had.
Feeling you tremble as you try to stand
Destroys my appetite and drains my spirit;
The way you flinch when I stretch out my hand
Not because you do not want, or fear, it
But since you cannot even see it coming
Breaks me. I do not know what to do.
I try to feed you; you're not even gumming
The teaspoonful that I laid out for you.
With every step your blood drips on the floor
What will I do when you have lost this war?
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