The Quiet Visitor

The cancer creeps like a thief,

morphine whispers hollow promises,

my mother’s screams cut the night,

a chorus of agony, the pain,

finding its way through veins,

each breath a laborious defeat,

her eyes searching for relief,

a silent plea to unseen gods,

in the sterile room, shadows

dance to her stifled cries,

life ebbing in a cruel rhythm,

the finality of each moment,

a testament to fragile existence,

as we sit, helpless witnesses,

to her battle, her weary surrender.