Death Poem III

Death Poem III

Words now flow from my pen with ease;
Actually, its just typing on the computer keys.

Tears flow from my eyes more now.
Loneliness can break even the strong, somehow.
Questions muddle in the minds of the weak;
Of this and more, I'll never speak.

A gun in the hand
May be worth two grand.
A bullet in the brain
Will not stop or restrain,
The awful fact,
That death and I,
Have made a pact.

She'll have hers, and I'll have mine.
My soul will part, at a price quite fine.
All will now hail, that unforgettable line,

"'Til Death Us Do Part"

It came from my heart.


LeBuert Feb 2011