Man turned Misog (entitled by the daughter)

Is it a blessing or is it a curse,

to live like this, is there anything worse?

Unable to talk, unable to eat,

fully dependent, not standing on my own two feet.

Waking each day is a double edged sword,

the gift of life should not be ignored,

I am well looked after, my wife is a saint,

but it's wrong that she suffers, her life is restrained,

I am a burden, of that there's no doubt,

she would be better off if I checked out,

my family wouldn't say that, and that's for sure,

but I know I'm a drag, so show me the door.

I realise I seem negative and somewhat down,

and I do appreciate the love that I'm shown,

but how would you be if you were like me,

I used to be so different, flying free,

we planned to travel, a world to explore,

but I can't do that any more.

That shouldn't stop Julie, this wouldn't be fair,

and my kids are in limbo, because they care.

Should I hang on, hoping for a cure?

It's not up to me, of that I am sure.

For I cannot move, so I have no choice.

My life is not my own, I have no voice.

This is how I feel, for better or otherwise.

I must sit in this chair, and contemplate my demise.