Patient

The stinging pain of the needle pierced his skin.
The steady hand's thumb pressed the liquid in.
The boy's face showed pain, but he didn't cry.
The doctor stated, "A brave boy." He didn't lie.

The boy was thirteen, with light hair and jeans.
The man gazed down with pitiful eyes.
For in his heart, the boy was to die.
And to God came the question, "Why are you so mean?"

The doctor was silent, for he had no answer.
He knew the diagnosis: A growing cancer.

No one was there, not a soul, when he died.
After months of struggle, he was alone on this ride.
He had to be patient, relief was to die.
His family wept bitterly, and the doctor cried.

As the news of his death, shot through the crowd,
A place was dedicated; Then a shroud
Was placed upon him, with the delicacy of down.
The news soon forgot...

... and a number written down.