Cancer

Your whisper is as thin as mist,
One of the things that I don't miss.
Twenty-one days to go, for now
I'm breaking the habit, I just don't know how.

Make haste and clap your hands for me,
I tried, only to be in defeat.
I can hear the clock counting back.
Tick, tock, tack is its dreadful whack.

I try not to cry as I make a list,
Of the things I need to reminisce.
My time is up now,
I just don't know how.

Please don't make haste and cry for me,
As you will only suffer in defeat.
I wish I could hear the clock counting back,
But all I can hear is the flat line go slack.