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Oh, harken to my tale of woe,

Of Scott, son of Don, and his great woe.

For Don, his father, lay upon death's door,

With liver and kidneys failed, and life no more.

The doctors did all they could, with skill and care,

But alas, 'twas all in vain, they could not repair.

And so they turned to Scott, with heavy heart,

To decide if they should keep life's flame aglow or part.

Oh, what a burden to lay upon a son,

To choose to keep his father's spirit or let it run.

For life and death, they are not in man's hand,

But still he must make the choice, take the stand.

To keep the body breathing, machines were all employed,

To keep Don's heart beating, artificial means deployed.

But was it truly life, that mere machine-made breath,

Or just a mockery of life, a crueler form of death?

Scott pondered long and hard, his heart in strife,

For to let his father go was to end his life.

But then he thought of Don, and how he'd want to be,

Free from pain and suffering, his soul set free.

And so, with heavy heart and tear-stained face,

Scott made the choice, to let his father find his place.

He told the doctors to end their life-supporting care,

And Don, at last, could breathe the natural air.

Three days passed, and Don's spirit took its leave,

But Scott knew that his father was at peace, free from any grief.

For in the end, it was not machines that kept Don alive,

But the love and memories shared, that forever shall survive.