And here's my poem. Ditto as with the story, so critique away. Thanks for your time.

TWO FOR ONE
As he grew more ancient, so his tumor, more patent-
Spelt a painful and hurtful doom.
So distraught over his fate, to his pain abate,
He sought a mysterious Oracle’s review.
So full of anxiety when the Oracle recited his well chosen words of gloom-
Words so absurd he repeated to utter-“Two lives for the One to bloom!”

He now sat down to ponder, what destiny awaited him yonder, how long he had in this life,
While his beloved wife, with vigor and strife, gave birth in the emergency room.
Suddenly came a Doctor, whose esteem did not falter and upon the man’s shoulder assume,
The news that the labor had been a drastic failure, and that his wife was doomed.
And as away the doctor sauntered, he despairingly offered that the son would soon be dead too.

Shocked and haunted, as he clutched his sweaty forehead
A new perspective he assumed;
Two lives had been taken, so he’d be forsaken
Of his impending doom.
A lightheaded feeling he soon began feeling and rushed to an examination room.
And true to his thinking, though not to his liking, his illness’ absence was true!

Dazed and amazed he cursed the day
That he sought refuge in the Oracle’s dark room.
For at that moment, though the words unspoken, he said unto himself;
“I have cast upon them a gloom-
So certain, that it has, them both, duly doomed.
Then shall I embrace this dark fate too…

He ran up the stairs, bounded up them in pairs
For he was certain of what he was to do.
Atop the building that glistened, he stood for a moment stricken-
Silently cursed, himself, and flew…
He said unto himself, “It is the only thing to do…”
And he fell down to his doom.

A coincidence, one conclusion, a fluke during the confusion
As nobody knew what to do
For all the doctors were stricken, some merely sickened
By the thud of the landing of the fool,
That none of them had a clue
When the little dead baby sneezed “achuu!”

Adrian Ntwatwa.