MISTAKEN PROGNOSIS

Living amongst my spine, like interwoven twine,
awaiting the call for death.
My inability to move becomes the final sign ,
for me to have one thought left.

They come to say I could live today,
but my body will be a shrine, eyes blind!
My mind turns away.

Leave! You fools, with your life saving tools,
for your judgement was malignant not benign.
Leave me now with your selfish rules,
for the final decision is mine.

They slammed the door upon my sight,
Leaving my body, the rind.
The decision I made from heart was right,
my life to cross the line.