on top of the chest of the one you thought dying
and you're afraid to touch it so you skirt around it
to avoid squeezing any life left in it
what's a doctor to do when the patient's still breathing
after months of struggling just to catch its breath
and it sits up to cough before it lays back down
the body's so sick yet the heart's still pumping
you know it will cave with each compression
so you clasp your hands together and you pray instead
science has proven that medicine cures
but only if the patient wants to live
pupils are soft but they aren't dilated
while they focus on your every move in the chair
and you want to get up and simply save yourself
yet you keep sitting and you continue the stare
what's a doctor to do when you're losing patience
and you want to ask the questions it's soon to avoid
and it seems like there is no one else on earth
who makes you feel more alive than this
drink lots of fluids and hope the next day is better
the heart's still beating because you can't stop caring
pupils aren't dilated but they're looking around
contemplating exiting from this life
i know you better than i know most people
when i sit in this chair and i look but say nothing
my heart pounds like a fist in the angry, open air
but the silence is bliss while you continue staring
what's a doctor to do when the soul says nothing
just hints at you during its moments of weakness
with one foot out the door and the other nudging you along
telling you to continue doing your job