Helping Hand Poem by Ima Ryma

Helping Hand

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Her blue eyes sparkled once with life.
Now they were dulled with drugs and pain.
He gently comforted his wife.
She never was one to complain.
The doctors said there was no hope.
Cancer would kill her slow but sure.
They gave her drugs to try to cope
With constant pain she must endure.
He knew she was resigned to death.
It was her dying that was hell -
To suffer till her final breath.
She slept now. That was just as well.

He gave his wife a kiss goodbye,
Then shot her through a closed blue eye.

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