I cling to a loose thread on your shirt
My blood trickles
The thin thread slices through my skin
I bleed, but I do not cry
I struggle on every breath
My chest, heavy
Death is creeping up on me
I'm not dying, but it feels like it
Warmth.
Many different hands holding on to me
Many different hands keeping me alive
Making the most of my final minutes
And yet I still hold on to this torture
Hoping...
Then you cut the thread off your shirt
Freedom you've achieved
Death I received.