You see the grey hair, blank stare, nothing there, nobody to care.
You feel the heartache, hips break, hands shake, never awake.
You hear machines beep, clothes seep, deep sleep, families weep.
You taste the cold tears, sore rears, BM smears, deadly fears.

Of all the senses you observe,
You don’t recognize what they deserve.
They had great lives long ago,
But looking at them, you wouldn’t know.

Looking at her hooked up to a machine,
You wouldn’t know she was a beauty queen.
Applying his special cream,
You wouldn’t know he was on the football team.

Cleaning the mess on his bed,
You wouldn’t know the wars he led.
Powdering the wounds under her breast,
You wouldn’t know the wounds she dressed.

Lying him on his back nice and flat,
You wouldn’t know how he used to swing a bat.
Judging by her loss of speech,
You wouldn’t know she used to teach.

Giving the man a warm shower,
You wouldn’t know he once had power.
Feeding the food for the woman to take,
You wouldn’t know the recipes she used to bake.

Seeing them not being able to move,
You wouldn’t know how they used to groove.
Handling them with a glove,
You wouldn’t know they used to be in love.

It could be my best friend or sister,
Or maybe my mister.
It could be my father or brother,
Or even my mother.

But maybe the hardest to see,
Is that one-day it could be me.
Right now I’ve got so much to show,
But maybe one day you wouldn’t know.