How does one choose to save a life? Fleeting

heartbeats turning black and beating slow

Racing, speeding, pumping, freezing

How does one choose when it is time to go?


Brother, dying, limply lying

On the floor with pale face and sicker than

I have seen before. Blood and sweat, drying

On his face, that which when wet, trailed, ran.


And I, watching, choosing, deciding his fate

He begs for me to help him live once more

Will I know what to do before too late?

Brother, weary, it is me you live for.


I can save your life, at the cost of mine

Would you wish it? If you do...fine.