A May-day Mayday.

Three-tenths of a second. A little out of my mind.
Three weeks and a day, died before the age of nine.
Still the same feeling filled him up, everyday.
Finally dying, in this beautiful month of May.
The siren sounds, and the ambulance came.
The police, the government was all over the place.
Came to carry me out, came to rescue him.
Distress was sent out to the local stations,
but no one answered the call.

In the emergency room, they try to revive him.
every sound of his pulse, weaker and weaker it goes.
Fighting spirit's gone, breathing's undone,
his eyes were shut, and heart's dead.
The poison's seeping in, he's given up.
His hands opened up, and there in his hands lay a piece of paper
he's been holding on to since his collapse.

It said:
"Never was a day, without the thought of thee,
it neared a decade of longing for thee, whence thee never came.
Thy promise of return, i could wait longer no more,
This spirit gave up, and it is all o'er.
Farewell, to thee, spirit will depart."

The lifeline went dead at the sound of the last heartbeat.
The lights went out, the signals stopped.
his waiting has ended, and his soul laid to rest.
All wept in despair, as they covered the body in immaculate cloth.
A moment of silence. A moment of death.

Goodbye, dear boy.
Nine years spent wisely.