Shelf Life For Ensure

me shudders at myself, I shake every limb,
If I Lipp and Nas, and both eyes divide the
are blind by the guards, breath heavy air
considered and the now erstorbnen eye lids.
The tongue, black from the fire, falls with the words down and mumbles
I do not know what, the weary soul calls
to the great Comforter, the flesh is calling for the tomb;
The doctors let me, the pain come back.
My body is not more than veins, skin and bone.
Sitting is my death, lying my pain.
The legs themselves have now probably needed support.
What is the high fame and youth, honor and art?
When this time comes, everything is smoke and haze,
And an emergency we must kill all intent.


Andreas Gryphius