These lines are for all those who’ve held me dear.
I’m saddened beyond repair. I have been
Trod on, destroyed, many times filled with fear.
I’d be ashamed to walk among great men.
Each step a folly, each word a mistake.
A cock crows, I muster only a sigh.
I ask aloud, as my breath starts to quake:
‘Will your life be better after I die?’
You say ‘your death would bring me great sorrow,’
But deep down, I know it’s not even true.
So I write lines you shall read tomorrow
For tonight, I’ll say goodbye to you.
This prose is the last I shall ever write,
For I will load and cock the gun tonight.
