He Lived for A Month (part 1)

Everyone has his or her own story
To make us cry to make us happy.
But brace yourselves for now, my friends,
Until my tale, my story ends.

Some years ago, there was a baby.
My uncle's child, he was a "primmy."
Nevertheless, he was God-sent.
I even named him; I called him Vincent.

I was ecstatic, I was enthralled.
I was a kid, 'bout nine years old.
There's no doubt, no fear in my mind.
My cousin, Vincent, will be just fine.

But was I stupid, was I wrong.
They didn't tell me he's not that strong.
He had complications, so young was he.
They're all told this, all of them... but me.

I waited hours, I waited for days
To finally meet him, to view his face.
The first time that I saw this angel,
I never thought he'd be so little.

His weight and size, I can't remember.
But he was inside the incubator.
Through that thick glass, I watched in vain.
I saw him howl and writhe in pain.

The doctor came and said he's weak.
A hole in his heart, danger's at its peak.
Vincent seemed helpless and so did I.
There's nothing I could do, nothing but cry.

But he was holding on, he wanted to live.
There's so much to see, to touch and to give.
His curious brown eyes that once meant mine,
Brought hope to my heart, I took it a sign.

A week went by, the doctors could see
He needed a better, advanced infirmary.
We were ready for that, ready to fight back,
But no one had predicted a sudden attack.

Vincent was weaker, he was getting worse.
I'd started to believe that my life was cursed.
His stomach was bigger; he couldn't digest.
His organs and body were starting to protest.