A Living Grave

Another day where he's woken up,
today he looks worse still,
the bloating has started,
he seems so very ill.

Eyes as yellow as a cats,
his hair is growing thin,
under the sentence of his cancer,
his future's growing dim.

We are all in silent mourning,
before he's even died,
because none of us truly know,
how long he'll be alive.

We all have to be happy,
to paint hearts with smiles,
he will have served his sentence,
in not too long a while.

So I go around smiling,
though his friends all come by,
to put tributes by this gravestone,
and sit inside to cry.

We now live in a graveyard,
with one ready marked stone,
every new day my mum says we're lucky,
that it's not us three on our own.

So please all, think of him,
this man nobody can save,
God has already killed my daddy,
he's just a living grave.

Dedicated to dad and to anyone else who has lost their father to cancer.
I know it sucks but I wanted to get my exact feeling out, even if it doesn't go as a poem.