Staring at a familiar sight, Am I leaving, Hold me tight;
Wishing upon a bleeding tear, In the rusted, grainy
mirror;
Ribboned tears, from thy thinwail. Aftermath, on my journey I set sail;
  
Take me, to where to my needs they’ll tend.Stay with me until my end;
Hold my hand and speak to me, Until my eyes no longer see;
I know in time you will agree, It is a kindness you do to me;
From pain and suffering I have been saved, My last days cannot be waived;
Don’t grieve that it must be you Who has to decide this thing to do;
We’ve been so close, we two, and for years,Don’t let your heart hold any tears;
 
If it should be that I grow frail and weak, And pain should keep me from my sleep;
Lay the thin wail, with me at my grave, Could I relive yesterday, I know I’d be brave;
Then will you do what must be done?
For this, you sang the Unsung Poem.