Tomorrow

He lays out his best cloths,
His best pair of shoes.
He pulls the covers back,
But does not get in to bed.
His wife has grown old,
Her condition so bad,
They must put her away.
She can't even remember his name.
HE decided tonight will be the last night,
He cries himself to sleep.
As he gets up from his prayer,
He pulls a small box from under his bed.
He slowly runs his hand over the lid,
As a tear slides down his cheeks.
He puts the box on the table next to him,
And slides into bed.
But before he turns off the light,
He takes one final look in the box,
And saw just what he wanted to.
His pistol.
"tomorrow.." he says to himself,
As he turns off the light.