Quadriplegic Life
Cold metal chills, a sterile gown, Thoughts spiral down, a whispered frown.
The surgeon’s face, a calming mask, But fear takes hold, a chilling task.
Will I wake up, will I see the light?Or drift away into endless night?
The unknown beckons, dark and vast, A fragile breath, a chance surpassed.
But hope remains, a flickering spark, In trusting hands, a surgeon’s ark.
For life’s sweet sake, this fear I face, A chance to heal, to find my space.
