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A Sad Smile

I look upon my Nanna's shallow form,
Her sunken eyes show an unending storm.
Tubes stuck in her arms, neck and belly,
She strains her eyes to watch the telly.
To breathe for her is a machine,
I know to see me she is keen.
Ulcers in her stomach lining,
Bleeding skin covered in binding.
She's had fifteen heart attacks in a week,
It's no wonder she cannot even speak.
I put on a plastic gown,
And go to her, not wanting to frown.
She smiles at me; trying not to cry,
I beam back, hoping she won't die.

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