You're dying and they've given me a chance to say goodbye;
and though I know tis vanity, I still begin to cry.
You served me well, I can't complain,
both my babes were fed;
but, selfishly, I sacrifice you,
and choose my life instead.
Gone are the days when vanity prevailed to lure the opposite gender,
replaced are they by the truest soul, and a love so sweet and tender.
A love that looks beyond the flesh, the temptations of a glowing breast;
a love that lasts eternally, with no need to pass the test.
Despite this love, I'll grieve for you as I gaze upon my reflection,
and I know in time, my grief will pass, when we disguise this harsh amputation.
So please forgive my ingratitude for the times you served me well,
but the choice is clear, and you must go, and I shall bid farewell.
P. Coracas (C)
2.07. 1998