No Tears at Your Funeral...

I sit once again listening, to your never-ending cries for mercy. They die down then flare again once you’ve caught your breath.
You’re dying and yet I smile. I smile down at your hospital bed and whisper softly; you only brought this upon yourself dear uncle.
The others have left for a moment to give me time I didn’t want with you. I think about your life, your oh so pitiful existence.  You look up, eyes begging me. I will not nor cannot help you now! I hiss.
Even if I could, I wouldn’t dare. You deserve it and I will not cry at your funeral. I will sit far away from your coffin and laugh. I’ll think of the hurt and anguish you caused her and glare at your corps.
Each night I will curse you, the same way I do now. Somewhere out of my thoughts I hear a low beep. Your breathing quickens and I smirk. Farewell dear uncle good luck in hell, I whisper.
You reach for my hand and I pull away, don’t touch me! I spit out venom clear in my voice. I exit your room, and they stare back at me all eyes lined with tears.
I half glare and want to yell; don’t cry for him! He brought this upon himself! But I stay quiet not wanting to hurt them more. She rushes in to help her son, as if there’s anything she can do now. My mother also goes to say her goodbyes.
I wait, listening to she steady tick of the clock, it stops and I look up. It’s frozen on 4:18. Your birthday. I let out a quiet snort and smile knowing you are dead.