While He's Dieing

a poem about my father

While he's dieing
Forcing myself to keep tears from falling, I'm trying
Telling myself I'll see him again, but i'm lying
So long its been a fantasy but its now just truth i've been denying
Like the information to the people who care and keep on prying
My inner thoughts I'm having trouble hiding
And keeping sadness from my face can be so tiring
So I lay in my bed wasting time sighing
then stand in the mirror with eyeliner to keep reapplying,
my composure which is almost broken and i can hear my soul crying,
draining till its empty cuz it's been relying,
on me, waiting for me to quit lying
while i stare at myself, and start implying
that i'm the one who's been supplying
the fuel for this anger, this fear that's undying.
forgiveness, something i should be applying,
and if it's not to late a few extra moments i'll be buying,
but time ain't really on my side, so its time i start flying