The Immortals

My head hurts, my eyes struggle to open
My heartbeat gradually fails
I sit and watch my hands transform  
my thoughts to written words
How quietly I deny some honest words  
space in my head
How desperately I cling to life
scared I might draw my last breath
 
Such is the state of man;
When sickness brings him to the brink of death  
he remembers how lucky he is to have lived
But when he is strong and healthy
He thinks himself immortal