death comes knocking
at the door
pain and suffering
are no more
relations come
and quickly flee
leaving death
alone with me
tired eyes
impending doom
shallow breaths
a sterile room
compassion whispers
“go to sleep,
seeds you’ve planted
now you’ll reap”
a hand is held
now cold and frail
awaiting death
the final nail
as one last sigh
escaped your lips
death’s grip released
my fingertips.