She eyed them
The tubes and things
The things she was always attached to
She was resigned to this
Essentially, her functions were artificial
She shorted the name to "dialysis"
It was more than that
But saying so much would tire her
Either way, it was life support
Her blood was toxic, a poison
And the disease had destroyed her body
Wracking her psyche
She had fallen apart
And she was put together
"Quality" wasn't a thing anymore
She was "alive", suffice enough to say
But her freedom was limited to her machines
And she'd most likely die otherwise
She could be resigned
But she didn’t want to die
Not yet, as she didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction
Of course, did she consider "immortality" worth it?
She couldn't answer that
She wasn't dead and, yet
She wasn't entirely alive
She would call being attached to machines "Limbo".
She was chained
Her life lacked "Quality"
And her functions would be restarted once they ceased
She was resigned
She had little control over this
"Nothing to do about it."
Her blood was a poison
And her body and psyche were ravaged by disease
"Dialysis" was a lesser evil
She would sit, resigned
Listening to the whiring and stirrings of the machines
While she counted
Counted how long
How long until
The machines could no longer function
Then, one could say she'd probably be free.
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