He lies awake in bed, a stoic,
Dealing with his decrepitude,
Where it is almost a heroic
Act to eat one's own food
Without a helping hand...
And he'd love to trash his
Diapers, if he could only stand
Up, and walk twelve steps across
The fluoresecent room to the toilet,
But he can't, and so it's the cross
He must bear for living so long,
Way past the time he was
Healthy, happy, and strong.
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