The final Note

He summoned and gathered all the courage he could

Not that it was essential, but he speculated he should

And not that it was the first time, he had so done

For strangers he had written myriad rhymes, but not this one.

This was for himself, with thoughts true and pure

A memento of his pain, a disease without cure

So he lifted the pen, and wrote in words curled

‘I have given you so much,

that I have nothing else left

My soul, my heart, my life; as such

Now I am tired, I can’t anymore heft’

He drank away his pain and said goodbye to the world.

Next day they found his body on the bed

In his hands a bottle of poison, he fed

And the note he had left, his last rhymedead

Expressing himself to the world for the last time.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s