Resolution, Inhalation, Peace

You've got some strength for an old man.

And how you see through the veil of hair in your eyes, I have no idea. Tripping over your long, unkempt beard I wonder...what makes you keep walking?

You are not the American dream. You are not the poster boy for perseverance.

Yet still.....you speak through the smokestack that is your throat,
whispering any words of pain that you can -

your metamorphosis..
your transition.

I planted you as a seed, and I watched you grow -
but soon you are to die.

Though I hate you,
and though it will be my hand
that slips the blade
so gently between your ribs

I will kiss your forehead as you release your last breath,
close your eyes,
and fold your hands across your chest
because I refuse to allow you to
weave nightmares into memories.

I choose to end this,
I am happy because
I wish it to be so.