It's Time To Go Poem by Gregory Huyette

The final stretch, the fourth turn,

Riggings creek, but I still yearn

To move as sure and react as fast;

My thoughts are present, but body past.


Organs grind as does each bone

And every day I'm more alone.

Pain has become my bed partner,

Screaming louder each time I stir.


Strained sight is on the wane,

But I still see my limbs and every vein.

My countenance will let me know

That moment when it's time to go.