It's not okay...

Skin stretched across her face,
Eyes caved in,
Chin jutting out....
the picture of death before me

voice raspy...
forced...
weak...
I try my best not to cringe....
to picture a time before....

I wonder how such a small, foriegn object...
seeming harmless...
invades the body...
causes such pain...
steals a life...

Staring at its product,
lying before me
I try not to cry...
I try not to move...

Her screams of pain seared in my memory.
Her dead, bleak eyes tatooed in my mind

The sporadic rise and fall of her chest...
Is the only proof that she's alive...
but even with that I see
that she gone.
technically living,
realistically dead.

Looking back,
I start to cry...
they say its ok...
but i know its not.
for no one can ever take away the pain...
Of watching a loved one die...