I have seen hell and it is white.

It is subtypes and stages,

Grades and genetic markers.

It is diagnosis and prognosis,

Treatments and maintenance.

It is side effects and meds,

Apologies and regrets.

It is hospitals and doctors,

Anaesthesiologists and radiologists.

It is lists and prescriptions,

Therapies and positive thinking.

It is waiting rooms and lab tests,

CT scans and MRIs.

It is what we call healthcare,

And the emotional wasteland that is leftover.

I have seen hell and it is white.

Oh, how will death arrive?

As soft and smooth as silk, 

Coaxing my soul to follow

On that short sweet walk? 

Or will death arrive like thunder,

Like a frightening storm at sea,

Roaring, raving and angry,

Grabbing my soul from me?

Will death be a lovers hand

Smoothing o'er my brow? 

Or is it fierce and frightening,

Like lions on the prowl?

Oh, how will death arrive?

As thunder during rain?

Or might I look on death

As a friend to end my pain?