Before I start this poem, I would wanna add a quote said by Martin Luther King --> " No one is truly free to live, until one is free to die"
There I see him lay, awake and still,
Tacit and secluded, staring at window sill.
Impassive for a years, with an Illness,
Which never decided to leave his body axis.
His Drugs were out of action,
Unplayable expenses was a caution.
His cries and mourn were rife ,
Pleading and attempting to end his life.
Soon, There was a meeting,
To euthanize him, was the magisterial granting.
Sending him to his death bed,
with a dreamless sleep that lulls the dead.
The duty was rendered to me,
My soul wasn't ready to agree.
Abashed, if this was the right option here,
For a life was ought to disappear.