“Do not go gentle into that good night.”
So we are told by those who do not fight
But bodies grow so weary in the strife
Where cruelly mutant cells are growing rife
And after all that could be done was done
A month or two of fam’ly, friends and sun
But nature gives and takes remorselessly
And listens not to any family’s plea.
Now wearied of the constant battle strain
So tired of being tired and all the pain
Rest now with loving family at your bed
Where mem’ry stays, though your loved soul has fled.