my old poem

Death is something that visits us all,
why postpone and wait for death to call.
Just take a gun that could it all,
wait for the bang and your hand to fall,
Or better yet take a knife,
cut so deep you take your life.
While you lay there waiting for the world to go black,
make sure your doors are locked cos theres no going back.
Write your letters in black and blue,
and say goodbye to those who loved you.
You look around at the things you own, 

and you dont understand why you feel so alone.
You start to think about the place above,
cos the thing that made you feel this way, was a crazy thing called love.


By Siobhan Fowkes.