I've been sick. Very sick. For about a week.
The Flu. Strep. Doctors aren't sure.
Gave me medicine and sent me on my way.
It helped. I can get out of bed again. Well physically that is.
Mentally? I'm not too sure.
You didn't visit. You wanted to. You asked. Each day.
But each day I said no.
"I don't want to get you sick."
I said it so much even I started believing it.
But we both know it's not true.
It can't be hard seeing I'm slowing letting you go.
I have no choice.
You've decided everything already.
I've had no choice in the mater.