Paralysed

They have placed me on this cold stone table,
I’m trying to move, but unable.
I can’t understand why they’re doing this to me
I’m not dead, but why can’t they see.

If I could move they would see straight away,
but I can’t, and I’m unable to say.
No matter how much I try I cannot move a limb
and very soon the autopsy will begin.

Would they notice if I managed to blink an eye?
I can’t! I’ll try a tear, or better still cry.
The only thing functioning is my confused mind,
and frankly my brain has been left behind.

The pathologists are talking and preparing to cut,
they’re going to open my chest and gut.
My life signs aren’t displaying on the screen;
they think I’m just another has been.

They'll be murdering me without misgiving
because they can’t see I’m living.
I’ve got a peculiar feeling deep inside of me…
thanks dear God, I’ve managed to pee!

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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