When one doesn't fear their own demise,
they don't feel melancholy for that of the other.
They fear living another day,
waking up another morning,
hearing the continuous sound of the monitor in the hospital.
They wake up in fear hoping to be numb,
and as another day passes by,
they end it in disappointment.
They yearn for silence,
yet their pleasure resides in a sound they may never hear.
The monitor on their bedside table,
flatlining.
