Half dead. Barely alive.

My throat burns.
Gasping for the oxygen that escapes it.
Or is it the will to push on that is missing.
I an no longer sure.
My eyes heavy with the burden of knowing they already count me as deceased.
Even though I am alive in a way like no other.
I hear every laugh. Every sob. Every prayer they speak.
And it pains me to think I might never reply.