Getting Away With Murder Poem by James McLain

I lay here..I tell you..only now..
Because my time..grows short..
Trapped in a bed..wishing I could..
Now you know..I never could..yet I tried..
I am.. younger than most...older than
Some..most will live longer... in years than..
I..for me it will be over soon..The..Doctor..
Will know...how many breaths.. I..Took..
From when it was that..I..first saw her..
This machine in me..will tell her..Still..
First..I..have to die..I...lay here....waiting..
Unable to move..for the nurse to close my flap..
I would die.. days early..for one jug...of her..warm milk..