Who will I be when I am done with this?
I worked so hard to find who I am,
Only to put life aside to help you through the process
Of disintegrating from the mother I knew,
Kind, caring, creative and funny,
Into a disinterested, whining, tossing and turning ghost of a person.
“Get out of bed and live a little!” I want to yell,
Knowing that soon, bed will be your world.
You will go silent,
And lose the ability to eat, to breathe and to circulate blood.
I will watch and care for you through the years
This disease runs its course.
I will give me to help you digress with dignity.
After its done, who will I be?