Guilt for the Dying Well, I hate to think it But I know it's true: When you got old and sick, I stopped loving you. When you need me most, I turn and leave the room- Throwing up all over, I can't stand being near you. I hate myself for doing it And 'Why?' you cannot see. Now, more than ever, I know that you need me. I wish you would just die For I cannot deal with it. I loved you when you were younger- I can't love you when you're sick. January 24, 1997