Garret Schuelke's poem is only a few words long, and that is part of what makes it hit so hard. The speaker is lying in bed, dying, and says so plainly. There is no comfort or peaceful acceptance here, just a blunt statement of what is happening.
The middle line, "weak numb," is clipped, and the missing comma or connecting word makes it feel like the speaker can barely get the words out. Weakness and numbness suggest a body that is shutting down, and perhaps a mind that is going quiet too. Then the last line breaks through that flatness: "don't wanna go." The casual, almost childlike wording feels raw and honest. The speaker isn't making a grand speech about death, just admitting a simple, stubborn wish to stay.
The mood is bleak, intimate, and quietly desperate. Because the poem gives us so little, we're left sitting in the silence with the speaker, and the fear feels all the more real.