Saviour Poem by Zena Blank

No physical damage
yet you are in deaths hands
his clutches tighten ever so slightly
day by day
you have no strength left to fight
laying there helplessly
watching your own life slip away
hands extented in hope of a saviour
limp and cold
almost gone from this world
death has almost won
don't let him
muster that last dropp of energy
let me take those limp cold hands
let the life flow back into you
light your fire again
though it's only at a smolder
let me be your saviour