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Bed-stricken for the rest of time - their passiveness somehow not a crime; they just sit there, on a throne.

My freedom from this “life” postponed.

I would just do this on my own - they have the means, but they don’t know what it’s like to lay here in nihilistic therapy until I just disappear.

I swear by Apollo, the Healer that I will carry out this oath - and should I transgress, may I be denied of a life of admiration.

As I abstain from all wrong-doing … -

“Come on, it’s not wrong if they ask you to.”

- … Above all, I must not play at God. … -

“Their life is your fault.”

I’ve spent my life avowed to heal - the only side they want to see is surreal; one more thankless life.

Indentured to amend their strife.

Release me from this hell.

A higher order has made its call.

End it now - I bid farewell.

I have the means, but I swore I’d not.

Why won’t you just be my God?

I must not fulfill His role.

Look me dead in the eye and tell me there’s nothing you can do.

- There’s just nothing I can do.

“Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all men for my life and for my art;

but if I transgress it and foreswear myself, may the opposite befall me.”

Release me from this hell.

I swore by Apollo, the Healer.

Just be my God.

I have the means, but I will not.

Now, I just live… to die?

The higher order has made its call.

There’s just nothing I can do.