Only Half an Hour

Only half an hour

Until I need to go

But how do I get

To a place I do not know

I'm lying on a sheet

Staring at stationary feet

Wrinkled with age and spattered in time

With many rows of others; perfectly aligned

The room tastes like death

And it's full of sterile breath

Murmurs of machines whisper many fates

And on almost every pad is written a date

Dates of births; Dates of deaths

But I never would have guessed

That my name would be inscribed

On a sheet that said I'd died

So soon after

My life'd been filled with laughter

But simple people with simple lives

Come to simple deaths at perfect times

So I lie in wait

To be drawn to my fate

Quarter of an hour

Until I need to go

And I'm still not sure

How to leave or where I'll show

No one's here to visit

But that's alright; or is it?

I guess it is; they're busy

And they don't even know

There are no hours left

Before I have to go

The minute hand chases the hand of the hour

Yet I do not fear or cower

My chest is light and I feel free

Though soon there will not be a me

And what I once though I'd never know

Seems like clockwork to my bones

I close my eyes and breathe a breath

And I know where I must go.